


Vivid in the Golden Light

by Ashbright



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Happy Ending, Language, Lime, M/M, Mates, Mating Rituals, Mating Run, Panic Attacks, Sexual Content, Stilinski Family Feels, Underage Kissing, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashbright/pseuds/Ashbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles puts on a brave face but leads a lonely life until a hand extended in friendship unexpectedly leads him to where he has always belonged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vivid in the Golden Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onehaleofafire](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Onehaleofafire).



**

Vivid in the Golden Light

**

“Derek, look at this.”

Every night after dinner, since they had returned to Beacon Hills, Laura, Cora, Derek and Peter sat together around the dining room table. Cora, who was a junior at Beacon Hills high, did her homework. Derek, who was a part time Sheriff’s deputy, worked on finishing his Masters degree in Criminal Justice. Peter did some online trading on his laptop. Laura graded her high school students’ English homework.

Derek looked at the single sheet she was handing to him. It was a poem.

 

_A child Only a Mother Could Love  
By R. Stiles Stilinski._

Hm… Stiles Stilinski was the son of Derek’s boss. Derek worked the graveyard shift, to be able to attend classes. In the three months since he’d started as deputy, he’d never met the kid, though the other deputies spoke of him occasionally. It was usually with affection, but it was obvious the kid was a handful. It sounded as if he’d spent a lot of his childhood at the Sheriff’s office. Wondering why his sister was showing it to him, Derek started reading.

_Gone are the dancing eyes,_  
 _The song of joy that made the house a home,_  
 _The love that added flavor to the food,_  
 _The kisses that healed,_  
 _The cool hand that tempered a fever,_  
 _The voice that could chase the monsters away,_  
 _The embrace that made any hurt bearable,_  
 _The delicate scent of lilies in the valley,_  
 _The loving gaze that only saw beauty,_  
 _The gentle herding of a capricious mind,_  
 _Gone are the flowers in the vases,_  
 _The crisp ironed linens,_  
 _The light in father’s eyes,_  
 _The soft smile on his lips,_  
 _The humor in his tone,_  
 _The nightly duets of voices and laughter that lulled a child to sleep._

Derek looked up at his sister with a slight frown. Why did she want him to read this? Even after eight years, it hit a little too close to home… She motioned for him to continue reading.

_And then you learned, in a world without her in it,_  
 _That it is not all right for mind and body to be in constant motion,_  
 _That a smile that split a face in half is not beautiful,_  
 _That moles are not like constellations on the skin,_  
 _That lankiness is not the grace of a newborn colt,_  
 _That babbling is not endearing,_  
 _That curiosity is not a gift,_  
 _That uniqueness is not a quality._  
 _Anxious and jittery little pills can only do so much._  
 _They will not fix a clownish face,_  
 _Or cure awkwardness._  
 _You are a burden or nothing or worse._  
 _Your refuge, rooms stale with the echo of what was,_  
 _With fading memories and pervading silence._

Derek read the last three lines again. Stiles was a junior, like Cora. Seventeen or eighteen, at most. Derek knew John Stilinski was a widower, but didn’t know how old Stiles had been when his mother died. Derek, Laura and Cora had lost so many in the fire, but still: They had each other; they had Peter. They had a pack.

The haunting loneliness of the last two lines of the poem sounded like the heartbreaking howl of a lonely Omega, the sorrow enough to have driven a werewolf feral. He looked up at Laura again, but her attention had shifted to their younger sister.

“Cora?” she asked. “Do you know Stiles Stilinski?”

Cora looked up from her math homework. “Stiles? We have chemistry, history and econ together. But I don’t really know him, though. He and Scott McCall are best friends. At the beginning of the year, it was just the two of them, always together, but Scott McCall started dating Allison Argent about a week after she got here in October, so they kind of hang around the more popular kids now.”

“What’s Stiles like?” asked Derek.

“Hm… Well I know he’s really smart. He’s always been on the Principal’s Honor Roll. Harris hates him and is always on his case for some reason, but Stiles still gets 100% on most of the chem tests. He’s weird though.” She grinned. “Get this: he wrote an essay on the history of circumcision in an econ. test a couple of months back. He had to retake the test, but the essay was so good, Finstock gave him extra credit for it anyway.”

Laura chuckled. “The history of circumcision? Really?”

Cora smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Stiles can be really funny. He doesn’t have much sense of preservation, though. He dishes out the sarcasm indiscriminately, and guys like Jackson “I’m the Lacrosse Captain, and my parents are loaded so I’m better than you” Whittemore don’t enjoy being laughed at, you know, so Stiles ends up being pushed and shoved a lot. He’s in the Lacrosse team too, and Whittemore loves to body-check him.”

“So Stilinski is on the Lacrosse team and part of the popular crowd as well?” Derek was surprised. That did not sound like the kid who wrote that poem.

“Well… He _is_ on the team, but he never gets to play during matches because he’s a real klutz, I guess. I think he only joined the team anyway because McCall did? And he is not _part of_ the popular crowd. He’s just… McCall’s +1. Like, Lydia Martin, Jackson’s perfect girlfriend? She completely ignores him. He might as well not exist. Whittemore picks on him all the time and all his sycophants laugh along. Aside from Scott McCall, the only ones who give Stiles the time a day are Allison Argent and maybe sometimes Danny Mahealani, but Danny is nice to everybody, you know? I don’t think he and Stiles are friends outside of school or anything.”

To Derek, it sounded as if Stiles Stilinski only really had Scott McCall, a best friend who now had a girlfriend with whom he probably spent most of his free time. And Derek knew the type of hours the Sheriff was keeping. The man hardly ever took a day off, and was often pulling doubles. 

They had been short staffed for over a year after a meth addict who had stolen a deputy’s side arm while being fingerprinted had shot four deputies. It had been a senseless tragedy, with two of the deputies dying at the scene, and the other two in the hospital for a long time. 

They had hired four new people, but Derek and Jordan Parrish were combining school and work. Then, Chrissie, one of the most experienced deputies, had gone on maternity leave. All the remaining staff worked long hours, and John Stilinski was not the type to ask others to make sacrifices he was not willing to make. Everyone was anxious for Derek and Jordan to be done with school, and go in full time. 

A friend with a new girlfriend and a father who worked too much: It was no wonder Stiles was lonely.

“Is the McCall boy in your World History class?” asked Peter, not even looking up from his screen. As usual, though their Alpha seemed busy, he had been paying attention to everything that was said.

“No, he’s not,” answered Cora.

“Then ask Stiles to pair-up with you for your next project, all right?” Peter looked over the screen of his laptop at his youngest niece.

“Uh… Boyd and I were kind of planning on pairing up again?” Cora said, making an apologetic face.  
Peter closed his laptop and leaned forward. “Derek, Laura? What are your thoughts about Boyd?” he asked.

They all knew this was a serious question. 

After the fire, the four of them had gone to Alaska to temporarily join the Togiak pack, Derek’s father’s original pack, until Peter healed. Both the Togiak pack and its territory were huge, almost two hundred werewolf strong, covering all of south-east Alaska, bordered to the north by an artificial line running west from Anchorage to the ocean. They ran with hundreds of actual wolves at the full moon. 

The pack’s Alpha’s mate was a soft-spoken, loving woman. She had sensed that there was more than grief weighing on sixteen year-old Derek’s mind, and under her gentle coaxing, he had eventually confessed his role in the decimation of his family. It had taken months for her to slowly break down his conviction of guilt, for him to accept that he had not been responsible for what happened. Months during which Peter had healed and the Hale and Togiak packs, with all their allies, had demanded retribution from the Argents for Kate’s crimes.

Victoria Argent was the Argents’ leader. She and Chris, her husband, adhered to the Hunter’s Code, and when given the proof of Kate’s responsibility in the destruction of one of the most respected packs on the west coast (including the murder of five children, two of them humans), they had decided to enforce the traditional punishment. Kate had been given the choice of committing suicide or of being surrendered to the new Hale Alpha. 

Kate had appealed to her father Gerard, who, though he pretended to support Victoria’s decision, had attempted to rescue his daughter. In the ensuing fight amongst the hunters, both Kate and Gerard had died. Victoria had been grievously wounded but had thankfully recovered, and a truce had been achieved between the Argents and the Hale pack. 

Peter and Chris would work together to control the territory, keeping both foreign werewolves and foreign hunters out, and the Hale pack would be allowed to offer the bite to three humans to help rebuild its strength, with Chris present when the offers were made, to insure the humans were not coerced.

Cora had been campaigning for Boyd to be the first recruit, and it was assuredly what Peter’s question was alluding to.

“I like him.” Laura smiled wistfully. “He reminds me so much of Michael.”

Derek agreed. Their oldest brother Michael and Boyd shared the same quiet strength, self-acceptance and soothing presence.

“He is smart and level headed,” added Derek. “Thoughtful. Kind.” Boyd was someone Derek could see himself become close friend with. They had a lot in common. He would be a wonderful pack-mate.

Cora was beaming at them. Vernon Boyd had been the first person to speak to her when she had started school in September, and they had been friends ever since. He lived alone with his ailing and slightly out of touch great-grandmother and worked a full time job at the skating rink to support them, her retirement barely enough for them to be able to keep the house she refused to leave.

“Cora, invite Boyd to come over for breakfast on Sunday, after he drops his grandmother at church. I’ll invite Chris Argent. I think it’s time we spoke to Boyd. He would be a fine addition to our pack.”

Cora squealed, got up and threw her arms around Peter’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She whipped out her phone and started dialing. 

Peter, grinning at her enthusiasm, put his hand over her screen. “You will pair up with Stiles Stilinski for your next history project,” he said.

“I will! I will! And I’ll make Boyd ask Erica Reyes to pair up with him I am so sick of him pining for her from afar. It is time the boy made a move already!”

She skipped away, leaving three grinning adults in her wake. “Boyd! Dahling!” Boyd had evidently answered her call. The rest of her conversation was cut off when she closed her bedroom door. All the bedrooms of the rebuilt Hale house were soundproofed for privacy, something that had been on all their wish lists when they had worked together on the plans.

“Are you considering recruiting the Sheriff’s son next?” asked Derek, surprised.

“Probably not,” Peter answered with a shrug. “But it sound as if the boy could use more friends, and a straight A’s student would make a good study partner for Cora, don’t you think?”

“He is a brilliant student,” commented Laura. “He does excellent research as well. I think you’ll like him,” she said to Peter. “He has no brain to mouth filter whatsoever. At times, he can be totally ridiculous, but he also can be delightfully sarcastic.”

“Can’t wait to meet him,” answered Peter, reopening his laptop.

°“°““°“°

Derek manned the Sheriff’s office from 3:00 AM to 7:00 AM six days a week. For five of these days, he then drove from there to the California State University in Chico where he attended classes from 8:00 AM to 11:00 AM. After that, he went home to bed after a quick bite to eat.

He got up around 7:00 PM to have dinner with Cora, Laura and Peter, and did some work on his thesis until they went to bed. Then he went for a long run in the preserve, came back to work out in their home gym and got ready for his shift as a Sheriff’s deputy. It was a comfortable, well-established routine.

After their conversation, though, his thoughts kept returning to Stiles Stilinski. When he got to work that night, well Tuesday morning at 3:00, he went into the Sheriff’s private office (John Stilinski left his door wide open in his absence), and looked at the photographs the man kept on his desk. In a silver frame was a portrait of Claudia Stilinski. There was a note written in the corner of the picture, inside of a heart. “Stay safe, John. Remember that I love you!”

Claudia Stilinski had been beautiful. She had large, expressive light brown eyes, a luminous smile and long and wavy dark brown hair that framed her symmetrical face.

In a smaller wooden frame was a studio family portrait in which John was standing behind his wife, his arms around her, while she stood behind Stiles, her arms around him.

It looked as if seconds before the shot was taken, John had been tickling his wife and she, Stiles. All three of them seemed on the verge of laughing, big grins on their faces.

Stiles must have been about eight. He was missing both his front teeth. He had a buzz cut and his mother’s eyes, his round face split by his huge grin. He looked incredibly happy.

The last photo was a candid shot, taken from behind as Claudia ran alongside her son’s bicycle, her hand on the seat, helping him balance. 

She was wearing a yellow dress and white Keds without socks. Her legs were long, shapely and tanned, her arms toned. Her thick hair was held in a long braid that danced behind her.

Stile’s hair was still shorn, and he wore an orange t-shirt and red shorts. It must have been taken on a summer’s late afternoon. The colors were vivid in the golden light. It was a gorgeous picture. 

Since Stiles was now a junior in high school, it had to have been taken at least ten years ago, just like the others. There were no images of the intervening years. It was as if the Stilinski men’s life had stopped when Claudia died.

_You are a burden or nothing or worse._

As he drove to Uni, and while he should have been paying attention to his classes, Stiles’s words kept coming back to Derek. The little boy in the family portrait had basked in his mother’s unconditional love, had been cocooned by hers and his father’s arms, cherished, the apex of their love, the very opposite of the kid who had written that line.

In his bed that afternoon, Derek seemed unable to shut down his thoughts. He usually dropped to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but today he tossed and turned. After a while, he gave up. He got up again, put on his running clothes, and headed into the preserve, running fast, trying to still his mind.

Somehow, he ended up at the high school. The cover of the trees ended not too far from the Lacrosse field where the team happened to be training. He stopped to look and fairly quickly picked out the players Cora had spoken of.

The goalie had his back to him. Mahealani, # 6. That was Danny, who was nice to everyone and whom everybody liked. Running toward the goal, the ball in his cross, was McCall, #11, Scott, Stiles best friend, Allison Argent’s boyfriend. He passed the ball, but before Derek could identify whom he had meant to send it to, Whittemore, #37, Jackson, the team captain, sent the intended recipient flying with a ridiculously overdone body-check, intercepting it.

The player hit the ground, flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him, as Whittemore tried to score. It was a good attempt, but Danny blocked the ball, showing excellent reflexes.

Scott McCall helped the fallen player back to his feet, yelling angrily, “Jackson, you prick! Stiles is on our team!”

Whittemore smirked. “Oops,” he said, “my bad!” And he chuckled as he walked away.

Stiles brushed himself off as Scott asked, “You’re OK, dude?”

“You know me! I’m like a rubber ball. I bounce right back…”

“McCall! Stilinski! Defense! Less chatting, more blocking!” yelled the coach.

The two boys ran off. Derek kept his eyes on Stiles, who zigzagged his way toward the opposite goal, just in time to be in a position to block Boyd, #2, in his forward rush. Stiles was very quick, agile and fearless. Boyd passed to Lahay, #14, and Stiles was violently body checked by yet another player whose number and name Derek didn’t see.

Still, he was joking with McCall and smiling as they left the field. McCall’s girlfriend met them at the foot of the bleachers and welcomed Scott with a kiss. She also greeted Stiles, but the short red head girl who she had been sitting with her stepped rudely between them, essentially interrupting their conversation to reach her boyfriend, the Whittemore kid. Lydia Martin, Derek surmised.

As they headed back to the locker room, Scott McCall, Allison Argent and Stiles walked together, chatting and laughing.

The boys headed in and the two girls waited outside, looking at the screen of the red head’s phone and laughing.

Within minutes, Stiles came back out. He evidently had not showered with the others, just dropped off his pads and equipment. He called out to them, “Have fun, you guys. See you tomorrow,” before heading to the parking lot. 

Allison waved to him saying “Bye! Don’t work too hard!” The red head never even looked up from her phone.

Feeling a bit like a creep, Derek turned back to the preserve and ran home, the image of the tall gangly teenager walking away toward the school’s parking lot alone while favoring his right side stuck in his mind. Why did he feel such empathy for the boy?

When Derek got back home, it was almost 6:00 PMR. He took a quick shower and left a note asking not to be awaken for dinner and set his alarm for 1:30 AM so he could still work out before going in to work. He went back to bed. Thankfully, he fell asleep immediately.

°“°““°“°

Wednesday morning, Stiles was kind of glad because when Mr. Polson, the history teacher, announced that they had to choose partners for their next project, he also mentioned they were not allowed to pair themselves up with the same people again.

The previous time around, he had been stupid enough to try and ask Lydia if she wanted to work with him, but of course she’d totally blown him off and had paired up with Danny. Since there were an uneven number of people in the class, by the time he’d looked for someone else, everyone was paired up and he’d ended up working alone.

He wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. He’d gotten an A, obviously, but fuck if he was going to pass up the chance of hanging out with _someone_ for a couple of evenings, even if it was only for an assignment. 

He was also actually starting to realize that upon closer acquaintance, Lydia was not who he had thought she was. Yes, she was gorgeous and yes, she was much smarter than she let on. But truthfully, if Allison, who was just as attractive and no dummy either, could be super nice while rivaling Lydia in popularity, what reason did Lydia have to be so rude to him other than being a bitch? And frankly? Stiles deserved better than that. He’d never been anything but nice to her.  
It was also possible his perennial crush on Lydia might have taken a hit when he found himself jerking off to… other people nowadays anyway.

He decided to ask Erica Reyes. _She_ had always been nice to him. He was surprised, but glad for her, when he saw he’d been beaten to it by Vernon Boyd. She had a shy smile on her face, but looked really pleased. Stiles was even more surprised when he saw Danny moving in his direction with intent. Danny wanted to work with him? He could ask anyone! Everybody liked him.

But he was _completely_ thrown when Cora Hale stopped Danny in his tracts with a look that could freeze a large body of water, turned to Stiles and said, without any room for discussion, “Stiles, you’re with me.” He had not even been aware she knew his name.

Cora Hale had just started at Beacon High in September. She was beautiful without even trying. Unlike Lydia and Allison, she wore her hair in a ponytail, no make up, dressed in jeans and practical shirts and wore sneakers. Still, the guys on the team had nicknamed her “The Body”, because though she was incredibly fit, she also had curves in all the right places. 

None of them had made a move on her, though, because A: She only really talked to Vernon Boyd and people weren’t sure if they were dating. B: She looked like she could kick their ass if they offended her, and C: Vernon Boyd could and would definitely kick their ass if he and Cora were, indeed, dating, and some guy tried to make a move on his girl.

And here she was, smiling at him with her perfect lips, in that perfect face, on top of that perfect body. Behind her, Danny looked kind of miffed, and Lydia was actually staring daggers in her direction. Uh. Stiles expected the theme of the Twilight Zone to start playing at any moment.

“Sure, Cora!” said Stiles, as if he’d actually been given a choice. “We can pair up, thanks for asking!” 

She snorted at him and added, “I have to study for Dickwad Harris’s test next week, I’m barely pulling a C in chem., so even though this is not due for two weeks, we got to get it done sooner than later. Give me a ride home tonight, we’ll feed you dinner and we can get started.”

Well, the team did not have Lacrosse practice on Wednesdays, his dad was pulling a double, and Stiles already knew Scott would be “studying” with Allison again tonight after work, so it was fine by him. He’d been curious to see the inside of the Hale house since it had been rebuilt, anyway. 

When he’d first gotten his jeep, he’d sometimes driven to the burnt out ruin of the mansion. It had felt a little ghoulish, considering how many people had died there, but he had always wondered what it must have been like, to grow up a Hale, sharing a house with a dozen other people. He could imagine the voices, the laughter, the doors slamming and the sound of feet climbing the now charred stairs two at a time.

His mom had died three weeks before the fire. Now both houses were empty and silent, haunted by the memories of better times. It had felt weird when a huge team of workers had shown up last year, erected a fence around the ruin and started rebuilding. It had made his house feel even more desolate in comparison.

Each student pair would be writing a paper and giving a presentation on it to the rest of the class. Mr. Polson was passing around the shoe box that contained the topics. Last time Stiles had gotten _Artistic Expression in the upper Paleolithic_ , and it had been really cool.

“Pick a good one,” said Cora, letting him do the honors.

Stiles pulled out a folded piece of paper and Cora passed the box along. He opened it. “Sumerian Society prior to 3000 BCE,” he read.

Cora rolled her eyes. “Oh, well done Stilinski!”

“Shut up!” said Stiles, grinning. “This is great! They invented cuneiform writing, and we still use their math in base 60 to tell time and do geometry. Sumerians rocked!”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Hm. Ok, that doesn’t sound too bad. Lots of research, though.”

“Lucky for you, you shall benefit from my amazing Googlefoo,” Stiles said, wiggling his fingers. “You do have broadband at home, right?”

Cora shrugged. “My uncle is a day trader. We have the fastest internet available.”

“Score!” said Stiles, raising his hand for a high five. Cora shook her head, but still high fived him. Though it didn’t seem she had put much enthusiasm in it, it stung like heck. Stiles made a note to himself to try to not piss her off more than necessary.

“Meet me at my car after school? It’s the blue jeep.”

She smirked. “I know,” she said.

Stiles was pretty jazzed while walking to meet Scott, as he came out of his English class, so they could walk to Spanish together. Scott was waiting for him, and they bumped shoulders and smiled.

“I’m paired with Cora Hale for our next history project!” Stiles announced immediately.

“Dude!” They bumped fists. “Lydia still with Danny?”

“No. We had to change partners.”

“Who is she with?”

“No clue.” Stiles surprised both Scott and himself by adding, “I don’t really care.”

“Really?” asked Scott. 

Stiles shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, really!”

“Please tell me you haven’t replace Lydia with Cora in your ten-year seduction plan,” Scott asked.

“Nah. She’s not my type.”

“Ah. Lydia still reign supreme, then,” commented Scott, resigned.

“Actually, I’m starting to think Danny is just as much my type as Lydia, these days…” admitted Stiles, both to himself and to Scott. Oh, fuck. Had he said that out loud?

Scott stopped in his tracks and turned to him, wide eyed.

“Are you serious? ...Like, you like both?” He frowned.

Stiles bit his lips and could feel himself turn bright red. His heart was beating really fast. Why could he not have thought this through before blurting it out like an idiot?

“I think so? I mean, not just them in particular, but, you know… more like, equal opportunity boy and girl lusting?” He looked at his best friend, his bro, hoping he’d not fucked up the only meaningful relationship he had outside of his and his father’s.

Scott put his arm around his shoulders and started them walking again. “Dude! That’s so cool! It, like, doubles your choices! Plus, truthfully, you have a great ass, and according to what I’ve overheard from Danny, it’s like, a _major_ asset with that crowd.”

He grinned at Stiles. “Ah! Ass, Asset! Get it? I made a funny!” He looked so ridiculously pleased with himself, Stiles cracked up and gave him a hug, utterly relieved. He loved that guy so much.

“Enough with the PDA, ladies,” commented Jackson who was passing by, walking between Lydia and Danny who both smacked his arm.

“What?” he asked, annoyed.

“That remark was both homophobic and misogynistic. You managed to offend both your best friend and your girl friend with only five words, Jackson. A record even for you,” complained Lydia.

“What are you talking about?” griped Jackson.

“Never mind,” she said, exasperated, as Danny cracked up.

“I love it when they smack him,” said Scott, gleefully, as he and Stiles entered the Spanish classroom.

“I only wish they did it harder and more often,” answered Stiles, smirking.

“For our vicarious enjoyment,” added Scott.

“Is vicarious your word of the day?” Scott had started working on his SAT vocabulary with a ‘Word of the Day’ program on his computer, and tried to use each new word at least three times that day. 

“Yep!”

“Muy bien, mi amigo,*” complimented Stiles, just as Mrs. Rodriguez entered the room. She smiled at him approvingly.

“Soy muy colmilludo,” agreed Scott.

“ _Colmilludo_ es Mexicano, Scott. Es _talentoso_ en Español,” corrected Mrs. Rodriguez.

“Si, Senora,” agreed Scott. He stuck out his tongue at her when she turned her back. This was a constant bone of contention between Mrs. Rodriguez and Scott, along with his pronunciation. He _was_ Mexican, and proud of it, thank you very much. 

Stiles grinned, then got out his book and notebook and tried to pay attention, despite kind of freaking out that he had acknowledged for the first time, not only to himself but to Scott, as well, that he was attracted to both boys and girls.

Cora was already leaning on the jeep when he got to the parking lot. She was reading her chemistry book. She closed it and crammed it in her bag when he unlocked and opened the passenger door for her. Stiles was glad his car started without any problems. It had been in the shop over thanksgiving, and it had been running really well ever since. He patiently worked his way out of the parking lot, and automatically headed to the preserve.

He could feel that she was looking at him, making him self-conscious. “Uh… We could study for the chemistry test together, if you wanted…” he offered.

She grinned at him. “You mean, you’d be willing to tutor me, don’t you? I know you get straight A’s.”

“Well, I still need to study, if it helps you at the same time, so much the better, right?” he said, with a conciliatory smile.

“Aren’t you studying with Scott already?”

“I used to, but it’s one of the only classes he has with Allison, so they study together instead.”

“Which might explain why he got a D- on the last test,” she commented.

“Yeah, well…”

“His loss, my gain. I’d be more than happy for the help. Getting a C in chem. would bring my GPA to a 3.4 and that would suck.”

Stiles smiled, pleased. He enjoyed tutoring people, and since Cora cared about her grade, he wouldn’t have to spoon feed the stuff to her like he had Scott. She’d actually want his help. Plus it might mean having to do something over the weekend besides housework, laundry and watching TV.

He pulled up to the Hale house and parked.

“I guess you know where I live,” Cora commented.

Stiles was a little embarrassed. He should have faked it and asked for directions. Most people didn’t even know the house existed, the Hale property being pretty much surrounded by acres and acres of preserve. You couldn’t really chance upon it. The entrance to the mile long driveway was not obvious and people who did notice it probably thought it was one of the firebreaks.

“My back yard abuts the preserve?” Stiles ventured. “Scott and I did a lot of exploring when we were little, and I like to run on the trails. I’m in the cross-country team when it’s the off-season for Lacrosse. We all are. Finstock makes us. I’m not that good at Lacrosse. I just warm the bench. My dad comes to every home game, to be there in case I ever make it on the field, and he never complains that I don’t. Being good at cross-country is something I can do, you know, to kind of thank him for coming even though but he never sees me play.” Stiles got out of the car, feeling stupid for running his mouth as usual, and revealing so much about himself in the process.

“May be he enjoys the games?” suggested Cora, who’d gotten out as well, as they walked toward the house.

Stiles chuckled. “He’d never even heard of Lacrosse before I joined the team, and he has so little time off, believe me when I say if it wasn’t for me being on the team, he’d be home with a beer, watching baseball.”

Cora smiled at him. “That’s nice of him to come, then.”

“My dad’s the best,” said Stiles, honestly. He stopped and looked at the house. He was glad they had not changed the facade, but had rebuilt it as it had been before the fire. He really liked the wide front porch with the swing. He’d often sat in the old swing before, once he’d made sure doing so wasn’t going to bring the porch roof down on his head. 

Now there were beautiful flowerbeds in the front, and planters with blooms hanging along the porch handrail. The original wood shutters on the French windows opening onto the porch had been fakes, just there for show. It looked as if the new ones, though painted in the same dark green, were not. 

Once all the shutters were closed, breaking into the house would not be a trivial affair. If there were also an alarm with monitoring, it would help decrease the insurance premium for sure. Stiles laughed at himself. He was such a cop’s kid... 

Cora was looking at him, her eyebrows raised.

“It’s a beautiful house,” Stiles said, shrugging.

She smiled, pleased, and they climbed the stairs to the porch. Someone must be home, because the door was unlocked. Cora automatically took off her sneakers as they walked in, and put them on the shelf below a built in bench that ran along the wall of the foyer. There were quite a few pairs lined up. This was obviously a shoeless house. Stiles kicked off his shoes too, glad his socks matched, for once. 

“Let’s get something to eat,” she said. “We don’t eat dinner until seven-ish, and I’m starved.” 

From the foyer, they entered a large room with, on the left, a fireplace, bookshelves and a sitting area; a large dining table ahead in front of double windows; and on their right, a big kitchen area separated from the rest by an island with stools to sit on. 

There was a man hard at work in the kitchen. “Hey beautiful!” he said to Cora in greeting. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with bright blue eyes and brown hair. Stiles could not help but notice how cut he looked under his V-neck T-shirt. The man _obviously_ worked out.

“Hey, Uncle Peter. This is Stiles Stilinski. We are doing a history project together. Stiles, this is my uncle, Peter Hale.”

Peter Hale wiped his hands and walked around the island. He extended his hand in greeting, smiling. “Stiles. It’s nice to meet you. I assume you are related to our Sheriff?”

Stiles shook his hand, surprised by the formal gesture and nodded. “My dad.”

“I’ve only met him a few times, but I’ve only ever heard good things about him. Now, you two sit down and let me feed you. How about wraps?” 

“What kind?” asked Cora. Stiles didn’t care. The thought of eating homemade food he hadn’t cooked himself was thrilling enough.

“Cream cheese, avocado, bacon, sprouts, pine nuts, spinach and tomato?” Peter proposed.

“Sweet onion and fresh mushrooms, too?” asked Cora.

“How does that sound, Stiles?”

“Good! Great!” God. His mouth was watering already.

“And don’t skimp on the bacon,” said Cora, grinning.

“As you wish,” replied Peter, putting tall glasses of water in front of them. ”Give me five minutes.”

“Only five minutes? Inconceivable!” Cora exclaimed.

They were quoting _The Princess Bride_! How cool was that?

“Stiles, why don’t you give me your laptop while we wait,” said Cora. “I’ll get you on the network.”

Stiles got his MacBook out and opened it. Cora leaned on him to check out his background picture when it came up. “Nice!” she said. 

It was a selfie of him and Scott that Scott had taken last June, days after school had let out, as they drove around with the jeep’s top down. They had shades on, Scott’s hair was being whipped around by the wind, they were both grinning, and the sunset was reflected in their lenses. It was a really cool picture. He passed his laptop to Cora, who found their network and entered the password.

“We were coming back from swimming in the stream, where it widens into a kind of a pond, not too far from here,” said Stiles with a smile, eschewing mentioning they had parked in the Hale house driveway, in front of the fence hiding the progress of the construction.

“The swimming hole next to the white fir grove?” asked Peter.

“Yes, we’ve been going there for years. It’s awesome.”

“It is. It’s where we all learned to swim. I’m glad it was put to good use in our absence.”

Stiles suddenly realized Scott and his favorite swimming hole was actually on Hale property. They had ignored the “Private Property, Keep Out” signs for so long he’d completely forgotten about them.

“Oh, crap,” he said. “We are so busted. I’m sorry, we knew it was private property. We just… We thought it was abandoned, you know? I mean, that doesn’t make it right, it still trespassing, but we never thought you guys were ever coming back and… My dad didn’t know. We kind of implied we went to the recreation area at the lake? He would never have allowed it, I swear…”

“Stiles! Stiles! It’s all right!” said Peter Hale. “I mean it. I’m glad you used the swimming hole. The signs were mostly to protect ourselves in case someone drowns or something. Even now that we’re back, if you call ahead, you’re welcome to keep swimming there…”

“Wow. That’s very nice of you. Thanks.”

Peter placed plates in front of Stiles and Cora, with two large wraps in each. “Dig in,” he said. “And let me know if these need anything.” 

“Thanks, Uncle Peter.”

“Wow. These look great. Thank you, sir.”

“Feel free to call me Peter, Stiles.”

Stiles was pretty sure he would have a hard time doing so. Peter was incredibly nice and friendly, but there was something about him that inspired respect. It would feel wrong to address him so casually. He took a bite of his wrap. Holy crap! It was fabulous. Stiles let out a moan of appreciation. He took another enormous bite, and chewed slowly, his eyes closed.

“Oh, my god!” he said. “This is so good!”

He realized both Cora and Peter were staring at him, eyebrows raised.

“Do you need a moment alone with your wrap, Stiles?” Cora teased.

“What? This is like, the best thing I’ve ever eaten outside of curly fries!” he explained.

Peter cracked up. “High praise indeed. Enjoy. I’m going back to work.” He slapped Stiles lightly on the shoulder as he walked by.

Not only was the food fabulous but there was a lot of it. After eating both wraps, Stiles felt stuffed. He couldn’t believe it when Cora, who’d eaten just as much, grabbed an apple before they moved to the table so they could spread out. 

They quickly decided which aspect of the nascent Sumerian civilization to concentrate on, including what Stiles had already mentioned, and drew up an outline. Like Stiles, Cora was a touch typist, but she typed much faster, so they decided she’d be the ones taking down the notes.

They worked really well together, approaching the redaction of the paper and the organization of their talk in the same way. Cora was sharp, focused, and she had a way of gently bringing Stiles’s forever errand mind back to the topic at hand that didn’t make him feel stupid, and that kept him mostly on target. He was discovering that under her no nonsense, take no shit from anyone exterior, there was an unexpected natural kindness. He really hoped they could become friends.

At some point, Ms. Hale, Stiles English teacher, had come in. He had known she was Cora’s sister, so it was weird that he’d been surprised to see her. She greeted him pleasantly and she and Peter made dinner while Cora and Stiles worked. Finally, Laura, a large cup of coffee in her hand, told them to pack it in because it was dinner time, and asked them to get things ready while she went to wake up “grumpy cat”.

As they set the table, Cora explained that her brother worked the graveyard shift as a deputy for the Sheriff’s department, and Stiles realized he had to be one of the two new hires his dad had mentioned. One only did office work so far, because he was still working on his AA in Criminal Justice. The other, Cora’s brother evidently, actually worked as a deputy part time, because he was already qualified, but was working on his Masters. 

Stiles and Cora were sitting down, and Laura, who had come back downstairs, had just put down a platter with a mountain of chops from a rack of lamb, (to go with the huge salad, the ton of rice and the large pile of roasted vegetable that Peter had already brought) on the table, when Cora’s brother made his entrance. 

He was wearing grey sleep pants, low on his hips, and a black t-shirt, and drinking from the cup Laura had brought him. He had serious bed head, and still looked pretty out of it when he sat down at the end of the table, opposite his uncle. His sisters and uncle watched him, smirking, apparently waiting to see if in his sleepy state, he would notice the extra person sitting on his left at the table. It gave Stiles a chance to look at him.

He had the same coloring as Ms. Hale, the dark hair and the hazel eyes, and shared the happy genetic mix that gave all the Hales fabulous bodies. He was just as cut as his uncle, obviously also a fan of working out. He seriously needed a shave, but was one of those people who have nice dense beard, so it was a good look for him. He has funny little round ears that kind of stuck out, thick eyebrows just short of meeting in the middle, a pointy nose, a curved down mouth (Stile could definitely see why Laura had mentioned grumpy cat), a broad face and a hint of bunny teeth, but somehow managed to still be totally attractive. As in, “Sorry Danny, and, Go home! Jackson, you looser, _this_ is what a hot guy looks like” kind of attractive.

Finally, Cora said, “Stiles, this is my oblivious brother Derek. Derek, this is my friend Stiles, from school. Your boss’ son.”

Stiles was enjoying being introduced as Cora’s _friend_ when he was pinned down by Derek’s laser like, bewildered gaze. Then Derek frowned and, as if staggered by the depth of their betrayal, sent truly evil looks around the table, while unconsciously running his hand through his hair, sitting straighter and clearing his throat. He focused on Stiles again, his face now relaxing in a really nice smile, and reached between the water pitcher and the rice bowl to shake his hand. What, him too?  
“Hello, Stiles. It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to ignore you, I was still half asleep, and my relatives enjoy laughing at my expense.”

Stiles chuckled. “Nice to meet you too. My dad’s mentioned you before. You’re getting your Masters degree in Criminal Justice, right? That’s what I want to study too, with psychology added, maybe.”

“You’re planning to go into law enforcement?” Derek was still holding his hand, as if he’d forgotten about it.

“Yeah. Follow in my dad’s footsteps, I guess, though he’d prefer if I went to law school and became a DA.” Stiles shrugged. “But I’ve got to graduate from high school, first.” he added with a chortle. Derek finally let go of his hand.

“It’s good to have goals,” said Peter, who was piling food on his plate. It wasn’t until he’d eaten a forkful of rice that the others started to serve themselves. It was weird, but it felt right, somehow.

“Help yourself, Stiles,” Peter said. “If you wait for someone to politely serve you, you’ll starve. These people were raised by wolves.”

Stiles didn’t have to be told twice. Lamb chops! Stiles never bought any. They were, like, twenty box a pound, at least. He loved lamb, though. They were all stacking five or six on their plates, with large servings of rice and veggies. It was amazing. These people could really eat! Well, Stiles was a teenage boy… He tried to mind the table manners his mother had taught him but otherwise, he was definitely going to enjoy this meal.

At first, there was no talking outside of “pass the veggies” and such, but once people started to slow down a little, there was conversation. Stiles wasn’t paying much attention as it was mostly between Laura and Peter, and the food was just too good. 

At some point, Derek said something, and Stiles looked up to find the man staring at him intently. He swallowed what he was chewing, and said, “I’m sorry. I’m, like, in food heaven. Did you say something to me?”

Derek chuckled. He really had a nice smile. “I was asking if you played Lacrosse,” he said.  
“Yeah. I’m on the team, but I’m not very good,” Stiles admitted. “Did you play when you were in high school?”

“No. I played basketball. Lacrosse wasn’t very big when I was there.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Coach Finstock only started seven years ago. He was hired to teach econ., but he played Lacrosse for Loyola and he got everyone excited about it. He’s a little… nuts, but Beacon Hills has been state champion four out of seven years, so he must be doing something right. He’s got the whole town Lacrosse crazy.”

“Why do you think you’re not very good? You made the team.” Derek pointed out.

“Uh... I’ve been warming the bench for three years? Even my friend Scott, who has major asthma, made first line this year. That should give you an idea…”

Stiles usually didn’t worry too much about it. He would have liked his dad to see him play, at least once, but other than that, he tried not to care. But suddenly he wished he was better, he wished he could play really well, so he could ask Derek if he wanted to see the next game and… And what the fuck was that about?”

“May be you’re too busy maintaining your 4.0 to spend too much time worrying about Lacrosse,” Cora remarked.

“How do you know I…”

“Word gets around. And Lydia Martin hates you, because you are the only person standing in the way of her being valedictorian.”

Oh. Wow. Stiles had never even thought about that.

“4.0? Really? Well done, Stiles,” said Peter, approvingly.

“Stiles is great student,” commented Laura.

“Thank you, Ms. Hale. It’s easy to do well when the teacher is passionate about what she teaches. You make English really fun… Oh, god. Please don’t think I’m just saying that… I’m not. I mean it.”

“I’m glad you like my class, and I know you’re not trying to butter me up. I’ve had you as a student for three months. I know you say what’s on your mind, Stiles. _Everything_ that’s on your mind. With no brain to mouth filter whatsoever, might I add.” She was grinning, teasing him, but not in a mean way.

Cora was cracking up, and he just had to laugh. “It’s part of my charm?” he said, hopefully.

“I could help you with your Lacrosse training,” offered Derek, out of nowhere.

Stiles looked at him in surprise.

“If you wanted. If you had time,” Derek added. He was looking at Stiles with an unreadable expression. 

Stiles didn’t care that much about Lacrosse, but if he could get some one on one time with Derek Hale, he’d be happy to train everyday. OK, so apparently Cora wasn’t his type, but Derek definitely was. 

“That’s really nice of you to offer,” he said, trying to hide how much he wanted to say “YES!”. “The consensus is more that I need to bulk up a little. I’m pretty quick, and I can move the ball all right, it’s just that I’m constantly getting checked because I’m such a lightweight. Well, I do also trip over my own feet, and am always in danger of maiming myself and others with my cross, but that’s just pesky details…”

“We have a gym,” Derek said. “I can show you how to work with free weights…“ He spoke with such earnestness. Stiles still couldn’t read his expression, but Derek’s eyes had not left his, intense, as if he were searching for something. It should have been uncomfortable, but instead it made Stile’s heart beat faster, and it made him feel strangely elated. 

“Yoga could help improve your coordination,” added Cora, breaking the spell. “Laura and I do yoga Saturday mornings. You could join us, if you wanted. Then afterwards, you could attempt to cram chemistry in my head.” 

She added, talking to Peter, “Stiles offered to tutor me in Chemistry. I should be able to bring my grade up.”

“That’s excellent. Thank you, Stiles.”

“It will be fun. Chemistry is great, it’s just Harris that sucks. I suspect he’s compensating for something... I’m thinking micropenis, myself? I mean, the guy wear a size eight shoe, right! But it could just be that he never got a PhD, or that he still lives with his mother… Better being a dick to students than pulling a Norman Bates, I suppose. Did you know that was the first shower scene ever shown in a movie? And that a huge number of people swore up and down the blood going down the drain was red, even though the film’s in black and white?”

Stiles realized he’d yet again gone off on a tangent when he noticed Cora smirking and Derek’s raised eyebrows.

“Ah…” said Laura, smiling fondly. “The Stiles I know and love…”

“If we ever play Trivia Pursuit, you are on my team,” said Peter, grinning. “Let’s clean up.”

Stiles was amazed to note that the serving bowls and platters were completely empty. As the matter of fact, once the bones were dumped in the organic garbage, the dishes went directly in the dishwasher, because there was nothing left in them. Laura and Cora had eaten just as much as he had. It was a far cry from Allison or Lydia, who seem to survive on practically nothing. The Hales apparently all had amazing metabolisms.

Stiles looked at the time. It was a quarter to nine. He had a calculus test in the morning and needed to get going, so he could review his notes.

“Thanks a lot for the amazing dinner,” he said. “I’m going to head home, I have a math test tomorrow. When do you want to get together again, Cora? I have Lacrosse tomorrow night, and then I have to make dinner for my Dad and I.”

“Well, do you have plans for Friday night?”

“Hum. Let me check my social calendar. Oh, yeah, I have that hot date with my laundry, but you know, sort, wash, dry and fold. That’s all we ever do. I can reschedule.”

“Cool. Friday night it is, then.”

Stiles grabbed his backpack.

“I’ll walk you out,” said Derek. Stiles looked up at him, surprised, but Derek was already walking towards the door. “Bye, everyone,” Stiles said. “Thanks again for the awesome food!” he added, before shoving his feet in his sneakers and following Derek out.

“Good bye, Stiles!”, “See You tomorrow!”, “Later, Gator!”... Stiles smiled. The Hales were really nice.

Derek didn’t say anything on the way to the jeep and he was actually barefoot, the weirdo. He stopped next to Stiles’s car door, his hands in his pockets, not really looking at Stiles. As before, Stiles found his expression unreadable.

“Uh...” “Wha…” they started at the same time.

Now Derek met his eyes, and once again, his gaze was intense, filled with meaning Stiles had no clue out to decipher. Was he upset? Nervous? Excited? Puzzled? He was a little too close, or maybe it felt like it because he was so broad and _staring_.

Stiles made a little _go ahead_ move.

“We can work out anytime during the weekend and even after school if you have time…” said Derek.

“Isn’t that when you sleep?” asked Stiles, honestly confused.

Derek shrugged. “I work out everyday. I don’t mind working with your schedule. It’s worth it if I get to spend time with yo... I mean, to have company while… I’m kind of bored working out alone.”

“Oh.” Stiles felt himself blushing. “ All right. How about we start Saturday afternoon, after I study with Cora?”

Derek grinned, looking disproportionately pleased. “Great. That’s great. Yeah, Saturday. All right! Looking forward to it.” Derek put a hand on Stiles upper arm, and squeezed lightly. “See you soon, Stiles. It was really nice meeting you.” He dropped his hand, looking a little embarrassed and hurried back inside.

Stiles got into the jeep, turned it around and drove off. He had a huge smile on his face. Cora was cool. He’d felt so welcome at the Hales. But also, Derek was sending some serious positive vibes his way, as if maybe he was as attracted to Stiles as Stiles was to him. It seemed impossible, because Stiles was eighteen (well, soon anyway) and awkward, and Derek was perhaps twenty-five and hot like the sun, but it sure felt like it. Stiles felt happy and excited, almost giddy. He hadn’t felt that way in a really long while. It was really nice.

°“°““°“°

Derek went back to the house, his heart drumming in his chest. He felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, the wolf right there, at the surface, prancing excitedly… As soon as he closed the door, he leaned against it and wolfed out, letting out a short joyous howl. He was jumped on and hugged by his laughing sisters and then by his grinning uncle.

“Oh, my god! Derek!” said Laura. She was smiling so hard, her eyes a little wet, and she hugged him again, as he calmed down enough to pull the wolf back.

She held his hand and he wrapped his arm around Cora’s shoulder as they all went back to seat down around the table.

“Well, that was unexpected,” said Peter smiling, and they all chucked at the understatement. “You never noticed?” he asked Laura.

“I’ve never spent any time alone with him, or been close enough to notice. Plus really, I wasn’t paying attention!”

“I know!” exclaimed Cora. “Before today, every time I’ve been anywhere with him, he’s been with Scott, who wears way too much Axe deodorant, and then Allison Argent smells like roses, from that Lancome perfume. I only noticed today, in the car. His scent is exactly the same. It was like sitting in there with Derek.” She giggled at her uncle. “You shook his hand!”

He shrugged. “I just needed to scent mark him. It felt too strange for someone to smell so much like Derek without also smelling like pack.” He smiled at Cora. “You put your hand on his shoulder looking at that picture.”

“I almost ruffled his hair when I came in, but it would have been too weird,” admitted Laura. “So, Derek, how does it _feel_?”

Derek smiled and leaned back in his chair. He knew he had a ridiculously large smile on his face, but could not care less. “Amazing. Overpowering. A bit disconcerting. I didn’t want to let him go!” He chuckled. “I’m completely fascinated by him. I want to know everything about him, how he thinks, what he likes…” He turned to his uncle. “He’s human! He has no clue! How do I deal with this?” He hid his face in his hands, chuckling. “He must think I’m so weird!”

“I thought you handled yourself with a lot of self-restraint,” said Peter, laying a reassuring hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“Especially since he is totally your boy-type, tall and lean and quirky…” teased Laura.

“And he looked surprised you were so friendly, but he was pretty responsive,” noted Cora. “His heartbeat, his scent…”

“Has Stiles ever dated boys?” Peter asked her.

Derek looked at her worriedly.

“He’s never dated anyone as far as I can tell.” 

Derek’s wolf liked that very much. Wolves were exceedingly possessive. 

“They say he’s had a crush on Lydia Martin forever, but she doesn’t even say “Hello” to him,” Cora added. “Danny is openly gay, and he and Stiles are friendly, though. Actually, thinking about it, Danny looked pretty annoyed I got to Stiles before he did in history today. But it’s probably because working with Stiles pretty much guarantees you an A, and Danny wants to go to Stanford.”

“How old is Stiles?” asked Peter.

Oh, god. Stiles was not just human. He was also only a junior in High school! And Derek’s boss’ son!

“Shit,” said Derek, hiding his face in his hands again, overwhelmed.

His uncle’s hand fell, warm and soothing, to the back of his neck.

“Relax, Derek. We’ll figure it out.”

Derek automatically took a couple deep, soothing breaths, and felt a little better. Laura had whipped out her laptop and was checking Stiles school file.

“He’ll turn 18 April the 8th. In four months,” she added to Derek, apologetically.

Four months. God, that seemed like forever, but reasonably, Stiles was not a wolf. Derek would have to get to know him, to… court him, for lack of a better word, before they could mate. Stiles didn’t have a wolfself telling him they were perfect for each; that they could bond with confidence knowing that the more their humanselves got to know each other, the more they would fall in love. They were going to have to go at this _backwards_... How weird. He suddenly worried.

“He’s human! What if he smells like my mate but he isn’t? Can humans be our mates? Can a werewolf and a human be perfect for each other? What if he never falls in love with me?”

“Uh… Derek? Granma Hale?” said Laura, rolling her eyes. “Uncle Peter’s and mom’s mother started out human, remember? And she was Gramp’s mate. He only bit her when she almost died birthing mom. Of course humans and werewolves can be mates.” She reached for his hand, smiling warmly. “Of course he’s perfect for you, and you for him. That’s how it works, big dummy.”

Derek smiled, relieved, not even caring about the insult. She was right. Stiles _was_ his mate! And he was tall, and lean, and had gorgeous eyes and hands, and that mouth… and he was incredibly smart, and funny, and how could Derek be so lucky? Only one in five werewolves ever found a true mate, and his was _perfect_!

“Derek to earth?” said Cora. “You might want to repeat that, Uncle Peter. I don’t think he heard a word you said…”

The three of them were kind of laughing at him. “Sorry, I…”

“Nephew, pay attention, please,” said Peter, smirking. “We need to make nice with the Sheriff. His son is going to be here a lot. You won’t be able to stay away from him, and the boy will naturally start falling in love with you.” He said pointedly, “By the way, I’m sure you agree that, of course, nothing, I repeat, _nothing_ below the waist will be taking place until the boy is of age?” 

He waited for Derek to nod in painful acknowledgement before continuing. 

“But you are 25, soon to be 26. Any father would be concern that a 26 year-old is dating their 17 year-old. That pill will be easier to swallow if he knows us and likes us, and if he thinks well of you, respects you and care about you as a person before he becomes aware of your interest in Stiles, so he knows you are not some pervert trying to seduce his boy.” He tapped his lips with his finger.

Peter said decidedly, “You need to ask for a leave of absence from school. You can finish next year. That way you can work full time for the department, and relieve some of the pressure on the Sheriff.”

“Better yet,” said Laura. “See if your adviser will allow you to change status and finish online. That way you won’t have to make up some excuse for quitting.”

“It will take me longer, but I think he’ll let me,” agreed Derek.

“Then you need to further get in John Stilinski’s good book, somehow,” said Peter.

“The department use to offer self-defense classes, which he’d instituted when he became Sheriff, but they had to quit a few years ago,” said Derek. “The community interest was there, but there just wasn’t the staff. I could offer to start those again, on my own time.”

“That’s really good!” said Laura, approvingly. “How about you suggest he talk to the principal, to see if you can offer a class at the High School, too. I’ll help for the first couple, and then I can take them over.”

“Maybe if I get an A on my chemistry test next week, we can have a thank you dinner for Stiles on a night when his father is free, and he can come too. You can talk to him about going full time and the self-defense classes then.”

“Yes! That would be ideal, Cora. Do you think you can you get an A?” asked Peter.

Cora smiled and looked determined. “For my big brother? I will, or die trying.”

Derek leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Let’s not forget our brunch with Boyd on Sunday,” Peter reminded them. “If all goes well, I’ll give him the bite the Friday after next, the night prior to the full moon. We will have to focus on him for a while afterwards, so we need to get the Sheriff issue taken care of before that.”

“My test is on Tuesday, and we’ll get it back Thursday. Stiles’s dad has the night off tomorrow. Does he have every Thursday nights off?”

“He usually does. I’ll check. That’s a ridiculously tight schedule, though,” commented Derek.

“It is,” agreed Peter. He shrugged. “If worse comes to worse, we can delay Boyd’s bite until the Cold Moon. It’s not as if you can ignore your mate for a month. It’s bad enough you cannot mate with him for four. Earning the Sheriff’s trust on your behalf has to be our highest priority.”

Derek nodded, and said, ”Thank you.”

All three of them were smiling at him. Laura reached over and squeezed his hand again. Unable to contain his glee, he smiled back at them and said, “Stiles is my mate!”

They all grinned. It was a huge thing for him, but it was also the best thing to have happened to their pack since Uncle Peter had recovered. For one thing, their pack was one member stronger, because the mate of a werewolf was automatically pack. For another, a pack with a mated pair was more resilient, more stable, and garnered more respect.

Derek had accepted for a long time now that he was not responsible for Kate Argent’s actions, and that none of them blamed him for the tragedy that had befallen their family, but somehow, finding out that he had a mate, bringing such a positive thing to his pack, made him feel as if he were fully redeemed. 

“I don’t think there is any way any of us can do anything productive tonight,” remarked Peter. He added with a grin, “let’s go for a run!”

Only minutes later, all four of them were out in the woods, letting their wolves out to play.

°“°““°“°

Thursday morning, Stiles totally kicked ass on his calculus test. Considering how hard it had been for him to actually focus on his revision the night before, it was a testimony to how well he mastered the subject.

No matter how many times he replayed his few interactions with Derek Hale in his mind, or how impossible it seemed, he could not find anything to make him doubt his impression that Derek was attracted to him.

Since he was convinced it was too good to be true, he’d forcefully pushed it to the back of his mind, getting a few hours of sleep, and managing to concentrate during his test.

Scott was waiting for him outside the classroom. 

“How did you do?” he asked.

“Awesome,” said Stiles, grinning.

“My man!” said Scott, high-fiving him. They made it to the French classroom to pick up Allison. 

Allison, Danny and Jackson all had French together. Danny bumped shoulders and smiled at Stiles as he passed by, which, uh?”

Allison noticed, and after she gave Scott a quick kiss, whispered to Stiles, “Well, that’s new…”

“What?” asked Scott, who as usual, had been oblivious of anything not Allison.

“I think Danny is flirting with Stiles,” she whispered to him.

Scott gave Stiles one of his crooked smiles and wiggled his eyebrows.  
“Yeah,” said Stiles, rolling his eyes. “That’s likely.”  
As they neared the econ. classroom, Cora and Boyd arrived from the opposite direction. Stiles smiled at her. Unexpectedly, she put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a peck on the cheek. “How did your calculus test go?” she asked.  
“Really well, I think,” Stiles replied.  
“As if there was ever any doubts,” she teased. “Hi, Scott. Hi, Allison,” she said, as Boyd nodded to them. The two of them entered the classroom and headed to their usual seats, away from the others.

“When it rains, it pours,” said Allison, giggling.

“Stop it. It’s not like that. We just worked on our history project together yesterday.”

“Well, she just said “Hi!” to Scott and I and she has never talked to us before…”

“She’s actually really nice. I think we’re becoming friends, and she knows I love you guys, so, you know… But it’s definitely a friend thing, not a girlfriend thing.”

Jackson had evidently caught that last bit, since he commented, “Good to know your starting to recognize when people are completely out of your league, Stilinski.”

“Pfft,” said Stiles. “Lydia Martin is a strawberry blonde goddess, the perfect mind in a perfect body. She’s out of anyone’s league, Jackson. Though I, personally, am no longer interested, if she lowers herself to date a douche like you, you cannot expect it not to raise the hopes of better men…” said Stiles.

Jackson scoffed. “Better men? I don’t think that would include you, asshat.”

“Well, _I_ certainly don’t feel the need to belittle anyone, or constantly assert my dominance by physically abusing those obviously weaker than me, so what does that tell you?”

“That you need your ass kicked?”

“I rest my case…”

Thankfully, Finstock entered the room, preventing Stiles from completely setting himself up for a thrashing.

“Dude,” said Scott, shaking his head in despair. 

Yeah, well. It’s not like anyone actually expected Stiles to have control of what came out of his mouth

At lunch, there was an astonished silence when Lydia asked Stiles to pass her the pepper, acknowledging his existence for the first time in eight years. Stiles couldn’t help himself. He asked, “And to what do I owe this sudden show of condescension, Miss Martin?”

“For one thing, it’s obvious you finally figured out you’re gay and stopped loudly and annoyingly pining for me. Also, after making me write three papers, Mr. Moffat finally raised my freshman grade in Social Studies from an A- to an A, which means you and I will be on equal footing for valedictorian starting our senior year.”

“Perhaps I lost interest in you because your personality is at odd with your looks and your emotional IQ the polar opposite of your regular IQ, and it has nothing to do with my sexual orientation. Besides which, I’m not gay. I’m bisexual,” corrected Stiles, though at the moment he felt pretty utterly Dereksexual.

Lydia looked at him with a raised eyebrow and, completely disregarding the comments he had made about her asked. “Oh, really? Outside of your obsessive crush on me, which started when you didn’t know what dicks were for, name a girl you actually have looked at with any kind of interest.”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe it’s who a person is that’s important to me, not their gender.”

“Then use the proper terminology, Genius.”

“Fine. I’m pansexual. And I’ll be taking all AP classes next year. Just a fair warning, since you seem to take the valedictorian crap seriously,” said Stiles sweetly, smiling at her.

“As will I. This should be fun.” She smiled back at him, and to his complete surprise, it was a completely genuine smile. They both cracked up.

The rest of the people at the table had been following the exchange, looking back and forth between them as if they were watching a tennis match.

Lydia looked around the table and rolled her eyes. “Show’s over, people. Move on.”

“So, is this conversation an aberration, or is it a new beginning?” asked Scott.

“Is Aberration today’s word?” asked Stiles.

“Indeed it is!” They bumped fists, grinning at each other.

“You are rocking that list, bro.”

Scott smiled and took a huge bite of his sandwich.

That afternoon, at Lacrosse practice, Stiles felt more motivated that he had in a while. He pushed himself when the coach had them run suicides as a warm up, and concentrated as he, Scott and Isaac Lahay first did a 3-player shuttle passing drill, and then a three man weave drill. He only tripped himself once during the weave and even though it was a spectacular fall, he counted that as a win. 

Then the whole team did an overhand shooting drill. Stiles usually never bothered to shoot, just making sure he didn’t fuck up the rhythm by dropping the ball, but this time, he actually felt he had Danny beaten twice, and took the shots. Danny saved the first, but missed the second, and it made Stiles day.

Of course, as soon as they got to a screen drill, Jackson took the first available opportunity to body-check Stiles, popping the handle of his cross in Stiles ribs for good measure. He was still smirking at Stiles when he too went flying, checked by Boyd, who had about thirty pounds of muscle on him. As soon as he got up, Jackson, outraged, laid into Boyd. “What the fuck! I wasn’t in possession!”  
Boyd smiled at him and said, “Oops. I didn’t realize Stiles still had the ball. I thought there had been an actual point to you slamming him.”

It happened again the next time Jackson body-checked Stiles, and Boyd’s comment to a pissed of Jackson was, “Oh. You still didn’t get possession? Maybe body-checking is not working for you. Maybe you should try something else.”

Finally, when they were playing half field, Boyd body-checked Jackson hard, out of nowhere, scooped up the ball and passed it to Lahay, remarking with a sweet smile, “That’s how you do a _successful_ body-check.” 

Finstock would usually have screamed if anyone had tried to break his best scorer, but he was too busy laughing his ass off. 

After practice, Stiles went home in a great mood. He decided to defrost his dad’s favorite meal, the Lasagna he made a couple times a year in industrial quantity following his mom’s recipe, just for that purpose. They only ate it occasionally, because it was not exactly a healthy version of the Italian dish, and it _had_ to be accompanied by buttery garlic bread. He did make a salad to go with it, but it was just to make himself feel better.

The last time father and son had eaten together was Monday, so they enjoyed their time together, giving each other the highlights of the week. For once, Stiles felt he had a lot of good stuff to tell his dad. He told him about his and Cora’s project, about eating dinner at the Hales, about actually having a conversation with Lydia, and about Boyd slamming Jackson repeatedly into the ground.

He also told his dad about agreeing to tutor Cora in chemistry, and meeting deputy Hale. He asked a few questions about Derek, but it was obvious that his dad and him hardly ever worked at the same time and didn’t know each other well. 

His dad did mention he couldn’t wait for Derek to be done with school. Derek had been effective every time he’d been involved in a less than routine assignment, and the guys who worked with him all trusted him and liked him. 

They reviewed the Sheriff’s schedule. His Dad was working Friday night until 11:00 PM, and Saturday until 5:00 PM, but then he was free until 5:00 PM on Sunday. They could eat dinner together Saturday night, watch a movie, maybe, and John would make pancakes for Stiles Sunday morning. Both father and son were looking forward to it.

Finally, Stiles remember to tell his dad he’d gotten an A in English, one in Spanish, and that he was pretty sure he’d aced his calculus test as well. 

John hugged him, and told him how proud he was of him. Stiles knew it was true. It was one of the reasons he worked as hard as he did. He knew how difficult it had been for his father, the few years following his mother’s death, having to deal with his son’s grief as well as his own, having to put up with Stile’s panic attacks, his ADHD, his sleep walking and runaway mouth. Now that he was in high school, he had sworn to try and not be a burden to his dad any more.

When he went to bed, he allowed himself to think again about what had happened the night before with Derek Hale. By now, he was pretty sure he remembered Derek as more handsome than he really was (nobody could be that good looking), and though the man had been really nice, Stiles had probably read too much in it. Why would an older, good-looking guy be interested in him that way? 

Stiles would be at the Hale house again the next evening. He was both excited and worried about being too excited. It was a good thing he’d work so hard in Lacrosse. Though his mind wanted to keep churning, his body’s exhaustion dragged him under.

°“°““°“°

Derek had not wasted any time. He had made an appointment with his advisor on Thursday morning, and met with him Friday. He explained that he had a family situation that would not allow him to continue attending the regular masters program classes. Derek was an excellent and dedicated student. He had concluded his research in the summer following his first year, his thesis was almost finished and his grades were outstanding.

Given that situation, his adviser, who serendipitously was also the head of the department, decided to let him finish the program remotely, with the exception of an occasional seminar or two, and of mandatory check-in appointments to keep track of his progress. Derek thanked him profusely, and visited each of his professors individually to establish what he would be expected to do to get the credits he needed in their classes.

It was generally understood that instead of six month until graduation, he was probably facing closer to a year before finishing. In truth, Derek could not care less. He was going to work as a Sheriff’s deputy in the Beacon Hills Sheriff department regardless, and though his pay scale would change once he was in possession of his Masters degree, he didn’t need the money.

Laura, Derek and Cora had been the beneficiaries of most of their family members’ life insurances, and Uncle Peter had a deep understanding of the market, so that under his management, the pack’s assets had continually grown in the past eight years, regardless of the crappy economy. 

What mattered was doing everything in his power to be able to get close to Stiles, so they could get to know each other, grow to care for one another, fall in love with each other and in four months, become mates. Of course his wolf already considered Stiles his mate, but Derek was looking forward to experiencing the development of the human side of their relationship.

Friday evening, Derek set his alarm for 6:30 PM. He showered and shaved, tamed his hair and put on black jeans and a black and grey baseball shirt. Laura knocked on his door and walked in, his usual cup of coffee in her hand, looked at him and smiled appreciatively.

“You clean up good, Derek.” 

With the door opened he could hear music and voices downstairs and caught Stiles laughter. It made him smile involuntarily.

“They finished the written part of their project already. I just went over it. It’s excellent. They work well together,” Laura added. She smiled. “He’s staying for dinner.”

They went down the stairs, arms around each other, Derek sipping his coffee. Dancing around and singing along to “Blow me one last kiss”, which was playing on Cora’s iPod, Cora and Stiles were setting the table. Laura chuckled and went to help Peter in the kitchen. 

Stiles stopped twerking when he saw Derek, his heart suddenly beating faster and said, “Hi,” continuing to place the forks and knives around the plates.

Derek smiled at him, and gently answered, “Hey.”

“Way to ruin our groove, Derek,” griped Cora playfully, heading to the kitchen to get glasses. 

Stiles unconsciously wiped his hands on his jeans. “No bed head today, eh?” he joked, “and you shaved… Big plans tonight?” he asked, his heart betraying his apparent nonchalance.

“Yes,” Derek answered truthfully. “I’m having dinner with you.”

“Oh,” said Stiles, blushing. He looked down to hide his smile, and gestured toward the kitchen, “I’m going to go get the water.” He almost ran into Peter who was coming in with the tureen full of New England clam chowder. They were having a fish dinner, with bacalhau in spicy tomato sauce as a main dish. It was a family favorite. Peter loved to cook. It was one of the ways he took care of his pack.

Stile and Cora were in high spirits, apparently from their successful cooperation on their project. Derek only listened to their banter with one ear, preferring to watch Stiles and listen to his laughter. Every time their eyes met, Stiles heart would skip a beat.

Stiles knocked his glass over while gesturing about something to do with Boyd and Lacrosse and Derek swiftly caught it before it had time to spill. Their hands touched as they were putting it to right and once again their eyes met, this time holding for a few seconds as they smiled to each other. 

Derek caressed the tip of Stile’s fingers as he let go. He couldn’t help himself. His family was kind enough to pretend not to notice so as not to make Stiles uncomfortable.

After cleaning up, Laura suggested they watch a movie. She wanted to see Cloud Atlas, because she had loved the book. Derek hadn’t read it, but he was game, as was Cora. Peter only hoped the adaptation had improved upon a book he really hadn’t liked. Stiles seemed hesitant when Cora said, “You’re staying, right?”

“Uh… I don’t…”

Derek reached over and touched his arm lightly. “Please stay,” he said.

Stiles nodded and smiled, then mentioned he’d thought the book was really creative but uneven, and that he was curious to see the film. He, Laura and Peter entered a debate about the quality of the writing while they settled on the couches and Cora made popcorn. 

The film was not really to Derek’s liking, but he was sitting next to Stiles and could not have cared less what they were watching. Their knees touched, their arms brushed each other when they reached for popcorn, and Derek’s wolf basked in his mate’s presence.

At the end, they all agreed it had been worth seeing, but none of them were all that enthused.

Stiles announced he had to go, and as he had Wednesday, Derek offered to walk him to his car.

It was strange for Derek to know this young man was his, was his mate, that they would be going through life together, loving each other, and for Stiles to not know it also, to be missing the instinct-driven wolf that would have recognized its mate and made everything simple.

“So, uh… We’re working out together tomorrow?” asked Stiles when he got to his car.

“Yes. I’m really looking forward to it,” said Derek.

Stiles ran his hand back and forth from the nape of his neck to his crown, nervously. “Derek… Can I ask you something? It’s been kinda driving me crazy…”

“What is it?”

Stile hid his face in his hands. “Oh, crap. No, forget it.” He laughed self-deprecatingly and taking out his keys, turned around and unlocked his car door. “It’s stupid, sorry. I gotta go…”

Derek put his hand over Stile’s, stopping him from opening the door. “Stiles, what did you want to ask?” he insisted.

Perhaps it was easier now because Stiles had his back to him and did not have to look at him, but he finally asked, “Uh, Derek, are you, like, interested in me? ‘Cause it kind of feels like... you like me maybe? But that’s stupid, right?”

Derek stepped closer, his whole body only a couple of inches from Stiles, and whispered in his neck, “Not stupid, no. I do like you. I like you... a lot. And I am interested. Very Interested. In you.” It occurred to him suddenly that perhaps Stiles might not be so much confused as upset; that perhaps Derek was moving too fast. 

“But if it makes you uncomfortable,” he added, “I’ll back off.” He physically took a step back, out of Stiles personal space. 

“No!” said Stiles, turning around and catching his hand. “What? No!” Stiles flailed a little. “Backing off is bad! Like, in the evil range of bad, bad. No! It’s just, like, why? I mean, Why _me_? You’re all...” He waved his hands ridiculously up and down, showing all of Derek, “Dude, have you _seen_ you? And I’m all like…” He made a face, pointing at himself, “You know, like…”

“Perfect?” suggested Derek, eyebrows raised, moving closer again.

“Perfect? Uh… no. Pfft. So _not_ the word I was looking for…”

Derek smiled, and kept moving closer. “Tall and Lean?” Closer, “extremely smart and funny?” Closer, “with gorgeous eyes?” Derek’s mouth was almost touching Stiles, “and really sinful lips…?”

“Oh, well, hum. OooK, then, maybe…” stuttered Stiles and Derek kissed him, taking no prisoners, his tongue invading Stiles sweet, tender, willing mouth, and a moan escaping him when Stiles responded in kind, his arms coming around Derek’s neck, his tongue soft, caressing and _bold_. 

It was good, so good, so perfect. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, a hand between his shoulder blade and another on his lower back, pulling him to himself, and lost himself in the kiss. Then his hands found their way down to Stiles ass, cupping the firm round cheeks and Stiles broke the kiss, breathing hard and pulling back a little.

“Derek, eh! Uh… This is nice, fuck, so good, but, er… I, hum…”

Derek brought his hands back up instantly. He leaned his forehead on Stiles, getting his bearings, catching his breath. “I’m sorry, Stiles.” He stepped back. “That wasn’t OK. I apologize. I…”

“Don’t! Don’t go away, please. It’s just, I’ve never…” Stiles took a deep breath. “It was my first kiss,” he said, embarrassed.

Derek murmured warmly, “Then it was the best first kiss in history.” He caressed Stiles face, smiling.

Stiles blushed. “I… I’m sorry. You’re older, you’re used to doing way more. I can…”

“Stiles, no!” He cupped Stiles’s cheek, looked into his eyes, trying to let him see how happy he was. “This was amazing. Holding you, hanging out with you is amazing. We have time, lots of time. There’s no hurry,” he added gently, mad at himself for not controlling himself better. He didn’t want Stiles to feel pressured.

“But…”

“Stiles, you’ll come tomorrow, and we’ll work out, and you’ll tutor Cora and hang with my family next week, and we’ll get to know each other and we can go for runs, and go on dates, and learn about each other. We have all the time in the world, I’m serious.” 

Stiles looked at him, heart racing, shyly thrilled. “But… there can be kissing, right?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes. I hope there will _definitely_ be some kissing.”

So Stiles came closer and did that, and... Oh, yeah. There was going to be a hell of a lot of kissing! And some serious John Stilinski’s _ass_ kissing, because there needed to be some dating and some making out and there was no way Derek was hiding this, doing this behind his boss’ back, and no way there would not be any PDA.

“Oh, my god, you guys are still out there? Let him go home already!” said Cora, for Derek’s ears only. “He’s suppose to get some rest so he can teach me chemistry tomorrow, remember?”

She was right, but, god, Stiles mouth! Now was not the time to think about what that mouth could do. Derek backed away and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?”

Stiles smiled. He looked so happy, making Derek’s wolf prance, warming Derek’s heart.

“Yeah, OK... Be careful at work, right?”

“I will. Drive safely.” Derek did not want Stiles to go.

“Dude, my dad’s working. He has enough to worry about. The last thing he needs is pulling his son over. I’m always a model driver. G’night.” After they stood a few more seconds just grinning at each other, Stiles got in his car and drove off. 

Derek watch the jeep until it took the turn that hid it from the house. He came home to find Cora leaning against the foyer wall with her arms crossed, and a smile on her lips.  
“You kissed him!” she said knowingly, gleeful.

“Yep.”

She grabbed and hugged him, laughing. “He’s so great, Derek! He’s sweet and funny and smart! I’m so happy for you!”

He hugged her back, beaming.

“Shit. I really got to get that A!” she half whined, half laughed.

He laughed. “Yes, Sis. Yes, you do…”

They walked up the stairs together. 

“Come help me memorize the periodic table and the damn atomic numbers, then,” she said. “That’ll be a start.”

°“°““°“°

Harris started handing the tests back. Stiles looked at Cora. He gave her a thumbs-up, but she still looked ridiculously nervous, pale, chewing her lip, fingers crossed.

She had no reason to be. They had worked their ass off in preparation for the test, had done all the exercises, had reviewed all the lab work and had even pulled some review questions off the Internet. Nothing on the test had been anything they had not gone over at least two or three times. She had to have done really well.

Harris all but threw Stiles’s paper in his face. 100, A. Stiles shoved it in his bag. He’d just seen that Scott had gotten a 67, D+, there was no reason to rub his own grade in. All of a sudden, Cora was on her feet, holding her paper out over her head, jumping up and down, whopping, “ 95%! I got an A! YES! YES! YES!!” 

Noticing the way Harris was looking at her, she brutally sat back down, adding, “And all because I benefit from a stellar education provided by a man who is a peerless scholar and a gentleman.” Harris continued handing out the tests, not even cracking a smile.

As soon as his back was turned, she gave a thumbs-up back to Stiles, with a big smile. He grinned back.

They had studied Saturday pretty much all day at the Hales (even while doing yoga, which by the way? Harder than it looked. Stiles had felt the burn…), then Sunday night at Stiles’s house for hours, and Monday evening before and after dinner at the Hales’ again.

More importantly, he had worked out with Derek for an hour and a half on Saturday, giving Cora a break, and had had dinner with the Hales on Monday night. Derek had walked him back to his car after the studying was done, at about 11:00 PM. Wednesday, last evening, he and Derek had worked out together at the Hales’ home gym, before dinner, though after about forty-five minutes, there had been a lot more kissing than lifting.

Stiles still couldn’t believe he was sort of dating Derek Hale. Sort of, because Derek was twenty five and Stiles was under-aged, and they had not talked about it but it was definitely an issue, in a town where everyone knew Stiles was the son of the Sheriff and Derek one of his deputies… But the kissing was awesome, and the way Derek looked at Stiles made him feel so good, like he was special, but in a good way, like Derek, for some unfathomable reason, felt lucky to have him.

Actually, now that Boyd was seen with his arm around Erica Reyes a lot, and that Boyd, Erica and Cora regularly talked to Stiles, everyone at school suspected that something was going on between Stiles and _Cora_ Hale.

The fact that they did a chest bump, high fived each other and that she almost smothered him in a hug after chemistry did nothing to clear up that misconception.

“You have to come for dinner tonight,” she cried happily. “We are going to be celebrating! “ 

“Can’t. I have Lacrosse tonight, and I have to cook dinner for my dad,” Stiles reminded her.

“I got an A Stiles! You have to come! You can bring your dad! He should know how awesome his son is. I could have never done it without you!” That was really nice and he’d love to come, but Stiles had no idea how Derek would react to Stiles’s dad, his boss, showing up for dinner…

“I’m not sure, Cora…” But she’d already run off, having seen Boyd at the other end of the corridor, squealing “Boyd! I got an A!”

Stiles watched the big guy lift her off the ground and twirl her, a huge smile on his face and reflected he had not really understood how important that chemistry grade really was to Cora. Perhaps it was really cause for celebration. Well, he had been spending an awful lot of time at the Hales, and had talked about them several times to his father, so maybe...

“Stiles? English?” said Allison, waving her hand in front of his face.

“Oh, yeah, thanks. Let’s go.”

“Well, Cora seemed happy,” Allison commented, smiling.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed!” joked Stiles. 

Allison giggled. 

“How did you do?” Stiles asked. Allison always seemed to get good grades effortlessly.

She shrugged. “Got a B. I like physics and math better, but chemistry’s all right. Did you see Scott’s grade? He wouldn’t tell me. I have a feeling he’s not doing as well now that you guys don’t study together anymore, but my mom knows we only have chem. and econ. together and she only lets us meet up when she thinks we study for those, or on Saturday nights, if there are other people going out with us.”

“You’re 18. Why are they so freaked out about your dating?”

Allison made a face. “I think my dad’s younger sister was really wild. I didn’t know her well, but she died eight years ago, and she was involved in some really shady stuff. She dated the wrong boy and got lots of people hurt. It’s made my parents paranoid, I think.” 

“Well, that sucks.”

“Yeah, well, at least they care. I don’t think Lydia’s parents even notice when she sleeps over at Jackson’s,” revealed Allison. 

“Ugh. That’s awful. My dad works a lot, but he cares about me. He likes to know what’s going on, you know.”

“So, he knows you’re interested in boys, now?” Allison teased.

“No. I guess that’s not really come up,” said Stiles. He suddenly felt sad, because, even though Stiles tried his best to hide it, his dad knew that Stiles was lonely sometimes, and he worried. He’d known Stiles had pinned for Lydia Martin for years, and that she had never said a word to him and he often had tried to cheer him up in his own way. And now that Stiles had found someone who cared about him, who seemed to like him even though he was, well, him, he couldn’t really share it with his dad.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I didn’t mean to bring you down. That was thoughtless of me…”

And that was why even though Allison had pretty much stolen his best friend, Stiles could never hate her. She was really a wonderful person, and if anyone deserved Scott, it was she.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I should tell him, though. It is kind of a big thing. I just don’t want him to worry about me.”

They got to English, and Ms. Hale came over and asked him quietly, “What did she get?”  
Stiles grinned. “An A.”

“Yes!” she said. Then she giggled. “Thank god! Peter’s already made a cake for tonight. You’ll come, won’t you? After Lacrosse? I know you usually eat with your dad on Thursday but you should be there. Bring him! We’d love to meet him.” 

The bell rang before he could answer, and she started class. Hm. Should he bring his dad to the Hales? It’s not as if he could tell his dad about Derek, but at least, for now, he would be the only one lying to him… If Derek spent time with his dad, he would be put in the position to have to lie to his boss. 

Stiles wished he and Derek had known each other longer, that he had a clue what Derek thought about this. He seemed to indicate he wanted to be with Stiles for the duration, saying he wanted them to get to know each other before anything more than fabulous kissing happened between them, that he was in no hurry. 

He said they should never do anything physical in the heat of the moment, no matter how tempting, without having discussed it before, so Stiles could think about what he was ready for without pressure.

Stiles was a 17 year-old virgin, and if anyone had asked him a month ago, he would have said he was ready for anything at any time. He probably would still feel this way with someone like Danny or whomever, but the way Derek looked at him, the way he held Stiles, and caressed his face so gently sometimes, it felt like it had meaning, like what was between them was something… precious, like whatever happened between them should be deliberate, because it would be their first time doing it together and they would always remember it.

And the implications of that were enough to blow Stiles mind, because, should he be feeling like this? He was only seventeen! Regardless of what Scott thought, the chances of a relationship started in high school actually being forever were pretty much nil. He knew that. Wasn’t falling in and out of bed with multiple partners one of the joys of college?

He still intellectually believed that, and would argue the case with Scott any day, yet, when he was with Derek… There was a timelessness about the way Derek approached their relationship that felt so right.

Shit. Stiles had no idea what Ms. Hale was even talking about. He had met Derek a week ago yesterday, had first kissed him five days ago and had spent a total of what, four hours alone with him?

This was ridiculous. Could you even call what they had a relationship? The fact that for a week Stiles had gone around feeling that finally he was no longer alone, that he’d somehow found where he belonged had probably more to do with how pathetically needy he was than with reality…

He had the horrible thought that perhaps the twenty five year old man, who could have anyone he looked at twice, who was soothing him with his patient words, was actually playing to his insecurities, seeing how quickly and how far he could get a lonely high school kid to fall for him and his games, hook, line and sinker. 

He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, his heart beating fast and loudly in his ears, drowning the voice of the teacher he was supposed to be listening to. He could feel a bead a sweat running down his back and kept trying to take a deep breath and relax, but he seem unable to, each inspiration shorter than the previous one. It was not until he started feeling lightheaded that he realized he was heading for a full-blown panic attack.

It was a tremendous effort to focus on Ms. Hale to try and asked to be excused. He needed to get out, now, but didn’t want to make a scene. He didn’t think he could have kept it together, except that when he looked towards her, she was already looking at him worriedly and said immediately:  
“Yes, Stiles, you may be excused.”

He got up and stumbled his way out, which only caused his classmates to chuckle, because him almost walking into a wall was not particularly unusual. Once out the door, he wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve and his dizziness increasing, looked for somewhere, anywhere out of the way.  
The bathrooms were at the end of the corridor, and he trudged that way, ignoring the sweat that burned his eyes and his tears of frustration.

He almost passed the janitor’s closet before realizing it was perfect, and closed the door behind him, sliding to the floor, his back against the door in the blessed darkness which smelled of floor cleaner and paper towels. He put the neck of his T-shirt over his nose to re-breathe his air and get some CO2 back in his system and tried to slow himself down, not to pant shallow breath, not to heed the voice that told him something was really wrong this time, that he might actually be having a heart attack.

He was soaked, and shaky, and dizzy and nauseated. No matter what he did, he heart seemed to gallop faster and he couldn’t hold his breath. He vaguely heard the bell once, and again, and thought detachedly how surprised the janitor would be to find a dead body in his closet. Then the door was pushed open, sliding him out of the way and closed again, and a hand that felt both warm and cool was on the back of his neck.

He knew from experience that anyone touching him, or worse, holding him, during a panic attack only made it worse, and he thought to fight off the person sliding down behind him, strong arms around his chest, but he suddenly felt so safe, he just relaxed against the body at his back, shuddered, and took a deep, long breath.

The pain in his chest disappeared, the nausea went away, his fingers stopped tingling as he kept slowly taking the deep long breaths that he had thought he would never be able to enjoy again. His heart finally slowed down, and soon he could no longer hear the blood rushing in his ears.  
“That must have been a really frightening though you had,” remarked a soothing voice. Stiles realized he had somehow known all along he was being held by Peter Hale. He could think of no reason why he would feel so at peace, sitting on the floor, in the V of the man’s legs, resting against his muscular chest and with the man’s arms around him _in the janitor’s closet_ where Peter had somehow known to find him, but he did.

The Hales had no idea what had been going on between him and Derek, so Stiles explained, “Not a frightening thought. Just an unwelcome realistic one: An older, gorgeous man acts as if some awkward adolescent he has known for a week is everything he’s ever wanted. In your opinion, sir, what’s more likely: that he actually means it, or that he gets off on being the first to fuck naive teenage boys?”

“Sadly, the second, I’m afraid,” answered Peter Hale honestly. “But now, Stiles, let me tell you a story. 

“Once upon a time, an awkward adolescent met a beautiful woman ten year his senior. She told him he was gorgeous and intelligent and mature. She fucked him and did amazing things to him, things he hadn’t even known people did to each other, and told him she loved him. She said that if he loved her he would tell no one about her. He trusted her. He loved her. He told her an important secret about himself, and she said she only loved him more because of it. He was so grateful that when she asked questions, he told her everything she wanted to know.

Then she used that knowledge to block all possible means of egress from his family’s house when she thought everyone was home, and she set the house on fire.

The teenage boy had to listen to the cries of his mother, his father, his siblings, and his whole family as they burned inside the house. 

It took a long, long time to convince him he was not responsible for their death.

Once he grew up to be a gorgeous man, I think he would be the least likely person to get off on being the first to fuck naive adolescents, don’t you?”

“That’s what happened? That’s how your family died?” asked Stiles, horrified.

“Yes, it is.”

“My dad has always said there was no way it could have been an accidental fire! Why don’t you tell him what happened so that woman will pay for what she did?”

“She died years ago, and no, before you ask, it was not a Hale who killed her. But justice was served, as much as it ever can be, in cases such as these…”

He sighed and was quiet for a moment. Stiles wondered whom, besides his sister and his nieces and nephews, he might have lost in the fire. A wife? A child?

Peter suddenly said, “Now Stiles, I have another story to tell you, a pretty wild story, but one that will make clear how deeply and absolutely Derek cares about you. All it will take is for you to momentarily suspend your disbelief.” 

It occurred to Stiles that he had been wrong. Evidently, the Hales knew exactly what had been going on between him and Derek. “Err… OK?”

“I mentioned before that Derek had a secret. It’s actually a family secret. One that makes some people who know it hate us enough to burn us alive.” 

“My mother’s last name was Orlik before she married my dad, and my great grandfather’s last name was Stuczynski when he arrived on Ellis Island. There are many people who hate us enough to burn us alive, but we make no secret about being Jewish, even if we are not observant.”

He felt Peter nod behind him, acknowledging the similarity, but then asked, “What about if we are not just a different religion, Stiles. What if we are a different... specie?”

Stiles snorted. “OK. That’s where I suspend my disbelief?”

“Correct,” said Peter. “Let’s say we Hales were… werewolves, shall we? Some are born, some are bitten. Myth and legends have made us into monsters, but in truth, we are just people who can change into wolves, or change into creatures with wolf characteristics, and have to learn to control that change. 

“Even when we appear human, we are stronger, faster and have keener senses, and we live in packs. Packs are sometime large, sometime small. Sometime they are families, sometime not. And sometimes, they include humans, who, though they are not werewolves, become bonded to a pack and respond to the same impulses as their werewolf packmates.

“For example, these human feel a natural respect for the pack’s Alpha. They find it difficult calling him by his first name, and wait without knowing why until he has eaten to partake of food. They feel safe and protected in his presence and completely relax at his touch. Were they to suffer a panic attack for example, their Alpha would only have to hold them for it to end.

“By the way, the Alpha’s instinct would be to take care of them, as he does all the betas in his pack, and though their bond, he would feel their distress while he shopped at the grocery store, abandon his cart, and drive over to the high school as fast as possible to go, unerringly, straight to the janitor’s closet where they are hiding out and help them.

“Werewolves have something else in common with wolves, though in their case, it is a bit more… extreme. Some werewolves, about one in five, the lucky few, are gifted with a mate: Another who is perfect for them. Someone they recognize instantly, because, though they have never met, they share the same base scent. To other werewolves, mates smell exactly alike. It’s very confusing. The base scent they share is what we use to tell people apart, because though it is layered with pack scent, hormone induced scents, physical state scents, state of mind scents, it, unlike these others, will not change, and we rely upon it. 

“A werewolf will know he and his mate belong to each other, without the shadow of a doubt. He has, previously, found his mates’ traits attractive in others. He has always liked tall, lean men, for example. He’s admired intelligence, appreciated sarcasm and found light brown eyes beautiful. Then, one day, he doesn’t notice a young man sitting at the dinner table because the stranger smells just like him, but when he does notice him, that young man is everything he has ever wanted, everything! 

“Sometimes, a mate is human. And humans do not have the sense of smell of a wolf, they do not know about mates. Still, just like their mate, they like everything they see in the other, everything they discover about them, and very fast, they fall helplessly and absolutely in love, with ridiculous thoughts like “only him, forever,” coming into their head though they may be only 17…

“Feeling that way, it would be terrifying to think perhaps one was being taken advantage of, wouldn’t it?”

Stiles pondered what he had just heard. It all fit. It would explain so much… And he probably was not running screaming because he was safely ensconced in his Alpha’s arms.

Could Derek be a werewolf? Ok, that would be _awesome_! Because, well, _werewolves_! No wonder they ate so much. And “raised by wolves?” Oh, ah, ah, Peter. Cute. Creatures who shared traits with wolves. Claws? Fangs? Tails? KNOTS? Oh fuck! Was that a thing? Would Derek have a knot on his dick? Would that be good, or bad? Uh…

“So, knots. Are they a thing?” Stiles asked Peter.

Peter started laughing and couldn’t stop. Anytime he seemed to have it under control and take a breath, he’d totally crack up again. 

OK! Stiles realized _after the fact_ that maybe it shouldn’t have been the first thing he asked about, but dude! Knots! I mean, who would not want to know?

Finally, Peter calmed down. “Oh, Stiles,” he said. “I am so glad to have you in our pack. Now, though it is an important question, let me answer a few other, which you should have been slightly more concerned with first.”

Peter let go of Stiles. It sounded as if he was standing up and… uh. Taking off his clothes? Then there was a funny noise, and there were bright red eyes glowing in the janitor’s closet, glowing with sufficient force that they illuminated the grinning face of an enormous wolf which hardly fit in there. The wolf licked a wet stripe along Stiles face, the eyes went off and Stiles could hear Peter put his clothes back on.

“Born wolves can usually shift all the way. Our wolves are about three times bigger than the animals. We can also shift to what is called the beta form.” The red eyes burned again, in a face that looked like a vampire from Buffy. 

“A werewolf with good control can actually shift partially any beta aspect he chooses, popping a claw, growing his fangs, glowing his eyes independently.” 

“Our senses are, in any form, much, much better than human senses, our reflexes are better, we are faster, we heal almost instantly from most injuries. Only an Alpha’s bite can turn a human into one of us. It is a momentous decision, on either side. One that should not be made lightly. 

“And finally, yes, in beta form and as full wolves, werewolves do have knots. And like popping a single claw, if a werewolf with good control decides to only shift that aspect of his body, even in human form one can have a knot, if he so chooses.”

He helped Stiles to his feet. “Now, I’m sure Laura felt me coming, and reported you as having gone to the infirmary so that your father would not be called when you missed your next class. Derek has been pacing in the parking lot for almost as long as I have been here, worrying about you. Though you two have not yet bonded, he will have felt your distress. Please go to him before you go back to class? It’s almost time for lunch, anyway. 

“And Stiles, bring your father to the house tonight. You and Derek should not need to hide. He needs to get to know us, to get to know Derek, so he can be all right with the two of you dating. You two will only mate when you are ready, Stiles, and not before you are of age anyway, but you should be together, in the open, until then. You should not feel you have to lie to your father.”

“Thank you,” said Stiles truthfully. “For that, and for trusting me with your secret. And for taking me in your pack and being my Alpha.”

“No thanks necessary. Now, if I want the roast to be ready for dinner, I better get back to the store. See you later, Stiles.”

They left the closet and Peter jogged to the exit. He had just stepped out of the school when the bell rang. Stiles walked back to the English classroom and went in once it had emptied. Ms. Hale smiled at him.

“You look much better, Stiles,” she said, handing him the backpack she had collected for him.

“Thank you. Is there an assignment for next time?” he asked. Even though he knew she was a werewolf, he could see no difference. She was still just his English teacher.

“Some reading. I marked the pages in your book for you.” She smiled fondly.

“Thank you, Ms. Hale. My dad and I will see you tonight.”

“Oh, good. I am really looking forward to meet him. See you, Stiles.”

As soon as he was out of the classroom, Stiles took off at a run, heading outside. On the parking lot, he saw Derek by his jeep. Derek looked up at him intently as soon as he cleared the main doors, his face like a storm. Grinning, his heart singing, Stiles ran to him and jumped into his open arms. Derek was his! He was Derek’s mate!

Derek held him tightly, sighing in relief. “You’re all right.”

“I’m sure Peter already told you I was,” said Stiles. “Don’t be such a sourwolf.”

Derek snorted but admitted, “He did, but I needed to see it for myself.” 

Derek released him, though Stiles could tell he wished he didn’t have to. He lay a conciliatory hand on Derek’s arm, his busy mind cataloguing the need to touch, and wondering if it was a wolf thing, or a mate thing, or both. So many questions... 

“You were hurting,” said Derek, still frowning. “What happened?”

Stiles didn’t want to make a big deal about what happened. “I had a panic attack, I have them, occasionally, sorry.”

Derek looked like he stored what he wanted to say about Stiles _apologizing_ for having a panic attack for later and asked instead, nodding. “I know that. I mean, right before it started. I felt your pain...”

Stiles looked at his feet, embarrassed. “I realized I might be falling in love with you, and thought that perhaps you were just… playing me, taking advantage...” Stiles admitted, still remembering how much the thought hurt, but feeling stupid, now.

“Oh, Stiles…” Derek brought his hand as if to touch Stiles face, but seem to remember where they were and put it on his shoulder instead. “I would never do anything to hurt you, especially not that. Never that.”

“I know,” Stiles said, looking up at Derek, meeting his eyes and wondering how he could ever have mistrusted the love he saw there.

“Hey, Stiles,” said Danny suddenly. He was coming from his car with a bag from Wendy’s, having evidently gone out to buy some lunch. He looked pointedly at Stiles hand on Derek’s arm, then at Derek’s on Stiles shoulder, with jealousy, concern, and admiration all at once.

Shit. He was probably worried that poor innocent Stiles might be hooking up with some ridiculously hot pervert. Stiles said the first thing that popped in his head to explain the situation. 

“Danny, hey! This is my favorite cousin… Miguel.” Oh, god. How did his mind even work? “Miguel, this is Danny Mahealani, a classmate of mine.” Stiles then grinned wickedly. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Miguel doesn’t speak English very well.”

Derek looked at him in complete disbelief.

“Now I’m sorry I’m taking French!” said Danny, grinning at Stiles.

“Estás en un monton de problemas.**” said Derek to Stiles with a sweet smile. “Vas a lamanterlo tanto...”

Stiles cracked up. “He thinks you’re really cute,” he said to Danny.

Derek repeated, between clenched teeth. “Tanto…”

“Is he here for long?” asked Danny, smiling at Derek, turning on the charm.

“Not long.” Derek answered for himself, in character. “Today, goodbye to Stiles.”

Derek took Stiles in his arms. “So much trouble…” he whispered in Stiles ear, hugging him tight.

Stiles hugged him back, chuckling at the empty threat. “See you later, Sourwolf,” he whispered.

Derek let him go, walked to a black Camaro and took off.

“I’m not sure which is hottest, your cousin, or his car…” said Danny as they walked back to school. “See you at practice.”

Stiles used the rest of the lunch break to go rinse off the last traces of his panic attack with a quick shower and change into a clean shirt. It was lucky he was used to dealing with ADHD, so he could manage to pay attention and take decent note even though his mind was racing in all direction after the big reveal in the janitor’s closet.

“What happened to you?” asked Scott worriedly as they walked to Spanish together. “Allison said you were excused from English and didn’t come back, and I couldn’t find you at lunch… I was worried man!”

“I felt kind of sick? I think it was the bacon this morning. It smelled a bit off. I feel just fine now.”  
“Here. I got you an apple and a Snickers bar at lunch, in case, and… “ He dug in his bag, and pulled out a small bottle, “have my Gatorade, too.”

Stiles had been starving. “I love you so much right now, man,” he said, scarfing down the candy bar. “You can be my boyfriend if that thing with Allison doesn’t work out…” He gulped the blue drink.

“I said you had a nice ass, not that I wanted it, bro.” said Scott, cracking up. “Besides, Allison and I are fated, man. We’re just meant to be.”

“You know, I’m actually starting to believe that?” said Stiles, his mouth full with a huge bite of the apple.

“Really?” asked Scott, looking totally pleased. He sighed, and added, hearts in his eyes. “I just love her so much…”

“Argh. Quit it. I might get sick again.”

Scott laughed good-naturedly and added, happily, “I’m just so lucky.”

Stiles gave Scott a one-arm hug. “Nah, man. She is.”

“Again with the hugging, losers? Are you engaged now?” asked Jackson, passing them on his way to French.

“Men comfortable with their sexuality do not have problems expressing affection physically, Jackson. ‘Tis not our fault you’re repressed,” yelled Stiles after him. 

“You do remember we have Lacrosse tonight, right?” said Scott, shaking his head, as they entered Spanish.

“I have only one word to answer that: Boyd.” Boyd had sent Jackson crashing again on Tuesday’s practice, not long after Jackson had about maimed Stiles with his cross.

“Yeah, Dude. What’s that all about?”

“Me don’t know, but me likes it,” said Stiles, sitting down.

Then it came to him. “ Actually, remember last year, in gym, when Erica had one of her seizures, and Jackson filmed it with his phone and had some comment on Facebook about her peeing herself?” he asked.

“Oooooh. I get it. It’s payback time…” said Scott, grinning happily.

“Sí los dos ya terminaron, quizas podemos comenzar***?” asked Mrs. Rodriguez.

The Lacrosse practice was good. Jackson actually seemed to stay clear of Stiles, and it was remarkable how much better Stiles played when he was not afraid for his health.

Again, when they were practicing shooting, he managed to get past Danny’s defense a couple of time, and he did not drop the ball once. He did manage to hit himself in the face with his cross, but that was actually after practice, on the way to the locker room.

“Stilinski, if Lahay is still injured Saturday, you’re on the field,” said Finstock.

“Oh, my god! Scott, did you hear that?” squealed Stiles, then he added, “Does it make me a really horrible person to want Isaac’s ribs to keep hurting?”

“A dichotomy: you wish the classmate well, but you want the rival player injured,” said Scott, wisely.

“Don’t tell me. It’s _dichotomy_ , today, isn’t it.”

“Nah. Today is _pilfered_ , but dichotomy is a bitch to place. I saw the opportunity and just ran with it.” 

They bumped fists. “Vocab. is your bitch, Bro!” commented Stiles.

Usually, he hurried home to start dinner, letting it cook while he showered, but today he was going to the Hales, so he took advantage of the unlimited hot water, accepting gratefully when Danny offered him his expensive hair and body gel, since he didn’t have his own and the stuff in the school dispenser could strip paint.

Danny did not even pretend he was not checking him out. “You been working out? Why do you wear these shit clothes, Stilinski?”

“Eyes forward, Danny boy. I’m saving all this for true love.”

Danny smirked. “Come out to Jungle with me this weekend. With that ass, true love won’t be hard to find…”

Stiles turned his torso and tried to see his ass and almost fell on it. “Really? Am I attractive to gay men?”

“You’re an idiot,” said Danny, not unkindly.

 

Once home, Stiles texted to his dad not to dawdle, and while waiting for him, decided to change. Dinner was kind of a party, after all. With his new body image in mind, and remembering Derek’s mention of liking that he was long and lean, he looked in his closet. Wow. Outside of T’s, flannel, and loose jeans, there was a whole lot of nothing…

Then he remembered the box he had prepared last June with the stuff that he’d outgrown for when the truck picking up the donation for the blind would come by. It was in the guest bedroom. He dug through there and found some green jeans he’d bought because they were on super sale at the Gap (apparently there was limited demand for _green_ jeans in 30/34…) but had not worn much, because they were slim fit and not his usual relaxed cut (and also, well, _green_ ) and a long sleeve black T. 

Wow those pants were tight. Well, they weren’t really, he could pull them up, button and zip them no problem, but they _felt_ tight. He turned a couple of times in place, twisting himself trying to check out his own ass, and decided to trust both Scott and Danny’s assertion that it was fine, instead. The shirt stuck to him and made him feel naked. Ugh. He looked in the mirror, and yeah. Hello skinny, lanky dude.

He repeated, “tall and lean” to himself as a mantra, but… 

Then he ripped off the shirt, cackling like a deranged hyena, and went to dig in his T-shirt drawer. Yes! Victory! The shirt was an extra large, so there went his attempt at fitted clothing, but it was one that Scott and Melissa had brought him back from their trip to Yellowstone, two years before, and in the front was a large wolf, howling at the moon. How perfect was that! Check it out, the grey of the shirt kinda looked all right with the green jeans. He was a fashion maven.

 

He was mentally patting himself on the back going down the stairs when his father came in.

“ _Don’t dawdle_? Really Stiles? A heads up would have been nice. Lucky for you Derek Hale called me after lunch to tell me we were expected at the Hale house for dinner!”

“I was worried if I gave you a choice you’d say you didn’t want to go!”

“And you thought dropping it on me at the last minute increased your chances?” asked John, disbelieving. 

“Well, I was hoping the lack of food here and the promise of an excellent spread somewhere else would play in my favor.”

“... Point. I’m going to take a quick shower. Whip out some cookies or something, will you, we’re not going there empty ended.”

“But Peter Hale made a cake!”

“I don’t care, Stiles! I wasn’t raised by wolves. Civilized people don’t just show up for dinner without bringing _something_.”

Stiles had to bite his tongue, hard, crying big tears inside at the tragic waste of _such_ a perfect lead-in for one of his amazingly witty repartee. Life was just so cruel…

When his dad came down, freshly showered and shaved, looking pretty good, actually, in Dockers and a blue button down, he asked, “Stiles, where the hell are those cookies?”

Stiles smiled sweetly and handed him a six-pack of Drake 1500 pale ale, which his dad only bought occasionally as a special treat. John huffed but took the beer. They locked up and got in the jeep. Stiles was not showing up for dinner in the Sheriff’s cruiser. 

Of course, they were going over to the Hales for a good cause, but still, Stiles would miss the evening with his dad. They had such few occasion to talk. He thought back to what Allison had said, cleared his throat, and asked, “Uh… Dad, can I tell you something?”

His dad looked over at him, realized Stiles was kind of nervous. He placed a reassuring hand on the back of Stiles’s neck, gave it a light squeeze and said, “Of course, son. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“You know how I used to have a crush on Lydia Martin?”

“Uh, son. A couple of weeks is a crush. Nine years is an obsession.”

“I had a plan!” Stiles defended.

“I’m well aware of the plan, Stiles. And the revisions to the plan, and the many alternate plans as well and…”

“All right! A simple yes would have sufficed, Dad,” griped Stiles.

“Sorry, kid. Go on.”

“Well, I’m kind of over Lydia now. Actually, completely over her. But, that’s not it. Uh… I maybe have been noticing that some other people are attractive? Like, hum, boy-people? And I mean, girl-people are fine, I’m not fixated or anything, but yeah, attractive boy-people: That’s a thing, now. Apparently. ...A big thing?”

“Oh. OooooK then... Well, the more fitted jeans are a good start, son. And, remember that talk we had about _The Prevention Of Untimely Procreation_? You are aware it still applies, right? Even though we should probably rename it now… hmm… _Wrap Before You Tap_? Maybe WBYT, for short? But yes, still in force.”

“Oh, god, Dad. WBYT? Really? That’s all I’m getting here?”

“What more do you want? You can be straight, queer, bi, whatever, son, I don’t care. _Happy_ is the only one I care about. I want you to be happy. I love you! So much. And, well, I was kind of looking forward to being a grandpa someday, but there’s adoption, and surrogacy, so, you know, that’s still open. Just be happy.”

Stiles pulled the jeep over to the side of the road and turned the engine off. He took off his seat belt, got out of the car and walked to the passenger side. He opened the door. John was taking off his seat belt too, saying, “What’s wrong, Stiles?” 

“Come on out, Dad.”

“What? You want me to drive?” 

He got out of the car, and Stiles grabbed him, and hugged him, holding on for dear life. John chuckled and hugged his son back. They held on to each other for quite a while, both remembering how much they loved each other, how everything else was just static compared to this.

After one last squeeze, they let go, got back in the car and drove off.

“Remind me of their names?” asked John.

“OK. The uncle is Peter Hale…”

°“°““°“°

It was close to 10:00 PM when they said their goodbyes. John started whistling on the way to the car, a spring in his step. On the other hand, Stiles yawned, his day catching up with him.

“Throw me the keys,” said John. “I’ll drive.”

Stiles did not give him any argument, but sat in the passenger’s seat with relief. As far as he was concerned, the evening had gone off perfectly, so his job was done.

Boyd had brought Erica. They had already been there when Stiles and his dad arrived, and it was obvious the whole family was trying hard to make the shy girlfriend of Cora’s best friend feel welcome. It was nice, taking some of the pressure off Stiles. 

Even the Sheriff seemed aware of how insecure she was, gently including her in the conversation, using her first name, and winking her way once or twice when he teased his son.

Soon, she was smiling and participating, her death grip on Boyd’s hand relaxing.

Nothing made John happier than have people appreciate his son, so it wasn’t hard for the Hales to get on his good side, repeatedly mentioning how grateful they were for Stile’s help in raising Cora’s grade. 

The evening continued to improve when, to Stiles surprise, Derek announced he was ready to go full time for the department, having decided to finish his Masters online, apparently tired of his weird schedule. 

Boyd surprised _everyone_ asking the Sheriff what it would take for him to join the department after graduation, like Jordan Parrish had. Apparently, he already was a fire department volunteer, had taken several first aid courses, and had been accepted in the BA in Criminal Justice online program at the University of Phoenix pending high school graduation. He and Jordan knew each other from being lifeguard together during the summer. The Sheriff instructed him to come see him after graduation. It didn’t take much imagination to realize Boyd would be mighty impressive in a deputy’s uniform. 

During dessert, after they’d cut into Cora’s “She did it!” cake, Derek and Ms. Hale proposed their idea of self-defense classes, sponsored by the Sheriff Department, taught at the YMCA by Derek, and by Derek and Laura at the high school until she would take them over completely. Apparently, they both had experience teaching them in Alaska, where they had lived before, and really missed doing it.

Stiles had been aware that his dad had only grudgingly cancelled the classes the department had taught for years when there just hadn’t been enough staff to continue offering them, despite the positive community response and the waiting list for enrolment. Saying his dad was thrilled by that development would be an understatement. 

Overall, a very positive evening for the Sheriff, and though, deplorably, the only contact between Stiles and Derek had been through their knees pressed together under the table, Stiles felt good.

He stretched as they turned into their street and as they pulled into the driveway, John asked, out of the blue, “Now, son, that conversation we had this evening, on the way to dinner, it wouldn’t have anything to do with Derek Hale, would it?”

“Daaad!”

“Come on, Stiles, I’m not blind, I saw the way you looked at him all evening. Can’t say I blame you. He looks fierce, but he is a handsome man…”

“Oh, god…” Stiles was so busted. 

John chuckled.

“Dad, that’s not funny!”

“No, _that’s_ not. But you know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“What’s funny is that Derek Hale looks at you exactly the same way when he thinks no one is paying attention.”

“He does?” Shit. And he’d thought they’d been so good, too...

“Stiles, Derek is… eight years older than you. That’s quite an age difference... But he is a good man, and, from the way he looks at you, like you are the most amazing thing in the world, I’d say if anyone tried to hurt you, he’d probably rip their throat out. With his teeth.” He chortled at his own joke. He put his hand on his son’s. “Stiles, anyone who looks at you like that is alright by me.” 

He was quiet for a while, as Stiles held his breath, hoping. Then John added, with a sigh. “So... if something were to develop from all these heated glances, and _as long as you both remembered that you are still under-aged_ , I wouldn’t find it in myself to object. I wouldn’t find it in myself to be all that surprised either, to be honest…” 

Stiles couldn’t help it. He grinned at his dad and said, “You know you’re like, the best dad ever, right?”

“I must be doing all right,” answered the Sheriff, ruffling his hair, “because I’ve raised this amazing kid…”

°“°““°“°

4 Months later…

Derek and Laura took one last look around the room. It was perfect: The huge king size bed with the soft sheets, the fluffy comforter and the many down cushion, the lit gas fireplace, the soft illumination from the white fairy light around the room. On the balcony, there was a table for two with a basket of fruit and chocolates. On the side, more food in a trunk. The bathroom had a large shower for two, robes, and a lot of thick towels.

They grinned at each other. Laura opened the trap door and, eschewing the ladder, jumped down carefully. Even for werewolves, a sixteen-meter drop was nothing to sneeze at.

From the ground, the elaborate tree house Derek, Peter, Boyd and Laura had worked on for three months was hardly noticeable. The last four meters of the ladder were rope and could be pulled up. The water, natural gas and electrical conduits were hidden in a compartment cut into the trunk and covered over with the original wood and bark.

Stiles was going to love it. He knew it was tradition for a newly mated pair to be alone for a few days in the woods, but had hinted to Derek that curling around on the ground would not be very comfy for his 147lb of pale skin and fragile bones. He was expecting a tent…

°“°““°“°

Stiles came down the stairs, wearing black skinny jeans and a grey Henley that showed off his lean but toned torso and the leather jacket he had found in a wrapped box at the foot of his bed that morning. It was buttery soft and he loved it. His only regret was that he wouldn’t get to steal Derek’s anymore. He loved being wrapped in Derek’s scent.

John was watching an episode of _The Black Adder_ already dressed in his uniform. He was leaving for his shift in half an hour. He said, “You look good, Stiles.” 

Stiles had told him that morning that he would be going to dinner with Derek and spending the weekend with him, so the Sheriff had made himself late for work making his son some birthday waffles and giving him his present, a $200.00 gas card with an oil change, which was awesome. They only would have had an hour together anyway, with Lacrosse Practice and his dad going to work a double starting at 7:00PM tonight.

“Thanks, Dad.” Stiles had already modeled the jacket for his father plenty at breakfast… He sat down on the couch to watch the show while waiting for his date.

John paused the DVD. “Son?” he said. “I want to say that… I’m very aware that in the past four months, Derek and you have really made a point to keeping things between you PG rated. You were never alone except in public, you kept your door open when he came over, and so on. I just wanted you to know I appreciate that.”

“Dad, you trusted my decision to date a 26 year-old man, it meant a lot. I wasn’t about to screw it up.”

“Still, I know it can’t have been easy, and I’m grateful you never put me in a position to regret that decision.”

“Uh... to be completely honest? You’re right about it not being easy… And you should know you mostly have Derek to thank for that.” Stiles sighed. “He has amazing will power.”

John chuckled. “Couldn’t sway him, eh?”

“Not for lack of trying!”

“Too much information, Stiles!” said John, quickly, still chuckling. Then he added, much more seriously. “I know you’re of age, now, Stiles, but… Be careful, son.”

“Not the _Wrap Before You Tap_ talk again, Dad, please, I beg you!”

“No! No. I meant for Derek’s sake. That man... He really loves you, son. You’re only 18, going to college next year. You’ll be meeting new people, doing what kids do in college, and well, I worry that if you and Derek get… any closer, losing you might actually break him.”

Stiles felt an amazing surge of love for his dad, for caring so deeply about his mate. It was too early to tell him about mates, or that he wouldn’t be going to either Stanford or Berkeley for college, as originally planned. That he was going to move into the Hale house after graduation and commute to Chico with Cora. But he still owed his dad the truth, or as near to it as possible. 

“I love him too, Dad, so much. I _know_ I’m still in high school, that he is my first boyfriend, that we’ve only known each other four months. Believe me, I’ve tried to have this discussion with Scott about Allison enough times. But, even though it makes me sound like a hypocrite, I really believe that Derek is it for me. 

“I’m not ignoring huge red flags, like the fact that his family hates me, or being so stupid about him that I don’t even care about my grades anymore. The truth is, I’m totally myself when I’m around him. I don’t try to hide the less than perfect stuff, and I never pretend I agree if I don’t, or that I don’t care if I do. And he doesn’t either. We both know who we’re dealing with, and still, I don’t think there will ever be a time when I won’t want it to be him I go through life with.”

John smiled at Stiles wistfully. “I’m not sure if it’s amazing or frightening that I actually believe you. I loved your mom that way, you know. It happened a little later, but hell, it happened just as fast.” He teased, “I guess I better get used to seeing his ugly mug around here then…”

The knock on the door was too well timed for Stiles not to believe Derek had heard every word and let the father and son have their moment. He got up and opened the door. Derek smiled at him, and cupped his cheek in his big hand. Stiles knew enough now to be aware that his mate was marking him with the scent of their pack. He leaned into the touch and smiled back.

“Good evening, Sheriff,” said Derek.

“Evening, Derek. How are you, son?“

“Couldn’t be better. I want to thank you, sir, for working that double so I can have the whole weekend off. I really appreciate it. I’ll drop Stiles at school Monday morning before my shift.”

Stiles looked at his dad, blown away. That man would never ceased to amaze him.

“Don’t mention it,” said John. “Have a good weekend.”

Stiles gave his dad a hug, hoping he knew what an incredible father he was. “See you later, Dad. I love you.” 

“I love you too. Happy birthday, Kiddo.”

“Thanks. Thank you, Dad.”

°“°““°“°

They got in Derek’s car and he drove off, heading for the Hale house.

“Are you ready?” asked Derek. He was not speaking of the ceremony. He had meant it when he’d told Stiles he would wait as long as Stiles needed, and still wanted to be sure Stiles did not feel pressured because he was of age.

Stiles gave him a soft look. “Derek, I’ve been ready for weeks, you know this. I love you, body and soul. If you were not such an upright citizen, I probably would have pushed for doing this much earlier. Are you ready?”

Derek let his eyes glow blue, and he growled, just for fun. Stiles cracked up. “Yeah, you’re a big bad wolf. Just remember to keep that knot to yourself and we’ll be all right,” he added, teasingly.

Derek chuckled, remembering Peter laughing so hard while recounting telling Stiles about werewolves that he couldn’t for the longest time tell the pack what Stiles’s first question had been after finding out. Laura still face-palmed every time she thought about it.

Derek had explained to Stiles that though werewolves enjoyed chasing each other as part of foreplay, and usually did so shifted, they made love as humans, the human body just being the more sensual of the three form a werewolf could take. He didn’t doubt there might be some out there with knot kinks, but he was _not_ one of them. 

Sex in beta form, even gingerly, would indubitably lead to blood and pain, which Derek wasn’t into, and possibly serious wounds if one of the partners did not have a werewolf’s healing powers. While both were in wolf form, it would be… not exactly romantic? Very like a “National Geographic” special. And well, werewolves were _not_ into bestiality, so… a wolf and human? Not so much…

When they got to the house, they went off separately to change their clothes, putting on simple white T-shirts and white drawstring pants. The whole pack walked together, chatting and laughing, to a small clearing near the house. 

Tonight, in honor of Stiles and Derek’s mating, all of them were wearing white. It was getting dark. The moon was due to rise any moment. Erica started singing “Dancing in the Moonlight”, and Peter and Cora joined her. She grabbed Stiles hand and made him dance, while Laura, laughing, did the same to Derek. Soon, they were all taking turns dancing with the couple. Still smiling, they all stopped to watch the moon as it started rising.

Derek took a deep breath. His mate, dressed in white. The moon rising. His pack surrounding them with love and warmth. The significance of the moment overwhelmed him. He wanted to commit every small detail to memory.

The scent of the pine needles crushed beneath their bare feet, the color of the darkening sky, the sounds of the insects and the birds, the heartbeats of all present, beating a gentle tattoo, the white flowers in his sisters dark hair and in Erica’s blond mane, the shadows lengthening, the warmth emanating from the ground, the way Stiles hair stuck out now that he was growing his buzz cut out, his large eyes, almost beta gold in the evening light, his long fingers playing with the tie of his pants, nails bitten to the quick, the soft smile on his face, his scent of joy and anticipation and happiness layered over their twin base scent, the calm certainty in his eyes and expression.

Peter started speaking.

“We are the Hale pack. We stand as such here tonight, in the ancestral Hale territory, at the rise of the moon. Our pack has been blessed. Derek has found his true mate in Stiles. They stand ready for the mating chase.”

The moon was shining down on its children. Peter smiled at Stiles. “Are you ready Stiles?” Stiles put down a backpack Derek had not noticed he carried. He took out and quickly put on socks and running shoes, because unlike the werewolves, a human could not run in the woods barefoot. He strapped on a headlight to see his way through the trees. For warmth in the early spring night, he also slipped on a bright red hoodie, his tongue in cheek choice making Derek smile. 

Stiles nodded to Peter. This was it! “You have twenty-eight minutes before the chase begins,” said Peter. “Run!” 

To Derek’s astonishment, Stiles raised his face to the moon and let out a long, beautiful and joyous mating howl, inviting the chase, and took off running. He quickly disappeared in the woods.

“He rehearsed that howl with me at least a hundred times to get it just right to surprise you,” said Peter, smiling. “You have a wonderful mate, Derek.”

Derek’s wolf glowed with the praise of his Alpha. 

“I wish Mom were here,” said Laura. “She would have been so proud of how strong you have been in handling this situation, Derek. You managed to wait four months for this!” 

“I wish they were all here,” said Derek, softly. He would have like for them to share in his happiness. 

He felt bad for a moment, because the pain of loss was so raw on his Alpha’s face, but Peter closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled as he opened his eyes again. 

“These woods are filled with the spirits of the Hale wolves that came before us,” he reminded them, “filled with the joyful memories of thousands of moon runs, of hunts, of mating runs. This is the clearing from which all mating runs begin: Your mother’s wild six-hour chase of your father on a full Wolf moon, my chase of beautiful Nina, whom I had met that very afternoon for the first time, and today, Derek’s chase of Stiles, after four long months. The land remembers. We remember. The Hale pack goes on.”

He looked at the time and smiled. “Soon,” he said. Night had come, with its particular sounds and scents. There was a gentle breeze through the branches. The moon overhead was not quite full, but brilliant. The need to run and the need to chase his mate were drumming in Derek’s blood.

“It’s time!” said Peter. 

Derek shifted and howled, powerfully. The pack answered, stronger now, with the voice of Boyd and Erica, the newest wolf, harmonizing with the rest.

“Go get him, Derek!” yelled Cora. Laughing, Derek took off running.

At most, in twenty-eight minutes, in the woods at night, Stiles might have run three miles. At full speed, Derek could easily run a two-minute mile. He picked up Stiles scent almost immediately. He would catch Stiles in less than ten minutes. He let out an excited howl and sped on. 

Five minutes into his run, he reached the small river. Stiles did not know the woods as well as Derek. Had he purposefully ran to the water, or was luck on his side? His mate was no fool. Derek suspected he had headed to the river in the hope that Derek would lose his scent… 

Derek leaped over the water to the other side, but there was no trace of Stile’s scent there. Smart. Stiles had stayed in the water. Did he go up or down stream? Had he exited the water on the near or far bank? Stiles could not run that long in the water. Either way, it would not take too long for Derek to find his scent again. 

He ran downstream on one bank for five minutes, jumped the river again, ran upstream for ten, jumped the river again, cursing his luck, and ran downstream for three minutes, when he caught Stile’s scent again, the scent of an excited and happy Stiles, with even a hint of arousal, as his mate thought about getting caught.

Following his muddy tracks, Derek was impressed at the length of Stiles strides as he raced through the trees, which showed he was running full on, at a very good clip. Derek reached a deep and wide gully Stiles should not have been able to clear and yet his scent did not follow along the gully either to the right or to the left.

Derek scrambled down its very steep bank in pursuit, worried about how dangerous the drop was for Stiles to go down, and was perplex that he could not find trace of him on the way down or at the bottom. He climbed up the other side, not without difficulty, and was astonished to find Stiles scent again: So Stiles had indeed jumped over the gully? It was over three meters wide! 

He started running again and the trail was not easy. He had to jump over fallen trees, pass through brambles. It did not seem to have slowed Stiles down at all. He cursed, as he almost did not stop in time when he ran into another gully, even wider than the first; Again, no scent following it either to the right or to the left. He was about to scramble down again, in case Stiles had ran along the bottom instead of climbing back out when he noticed the rope hanging from a branch overhead. Stiles had used a rope to swing across the obstacles, which meant his run was not random. It had been carefully planned and rehearsed! 

Stiles knew where he was going, knew the obstacles, and had trained for this chase. The heart of Derek’s wolf filled with pride. His mate was amazing, a true blessing for the pack, a great wolf…

Instead of the ten minutes he had expected, it took him close to an hour to catch a flash of red ahead of him. He howled playfully and heard his mate laugh before howling back, not giving up though, but speeding up his run.

Derek continued the chase. He was waylaid for a moment and picked up the red hoodie hanging from bushes, picked up the white T-shirt in the middle of the path, slowed down and walked through brambles to get the muddy pants hanging from a branch, thrown aside. He buried his nose in the crotch, breathing in the scent of his mate’s arousal, both turned on and amused at the thought of Stiles running amongst the trees naked but for his shoes and headlamp. 

Stiles’s scent was sharp, now, as easy to follow as if it had been a streak of light. Derek took off running after him again. He chortled when he recognized where they were. They had run in a wide semi-circle, and were not far from the house nor from the clearing they had started from: They were at the river fed swimming hole his family used in the summer, that Scott and Stiles had enjoyed for years.

Then he saw Stile’s shoes and socks by the water, the lit headlamp next to them, and growled in frustration. While he was picking up Stiles clothes along the trail, Stiles had entered the water, completely interrupting his scent again. He only had been a couple of minutes ahead, and now he could have come out of the water anywhere, further delaying Derek well earned reward.

Derek started to circle the small water hole, cursing the hard gravel that did not show footprints. He had to cross the river where it entered the swimming hole before he caught Stile’s scent again. The base scent was Derek’s own, but Stiles sweat was smoky and citrusy. The musky scent of his arousal was marvelous and heady. Stiles wanted to get caught, now. He was ready to mate…

Stile’s hiding place between two huge rocks was very good, but his scent and his loud heartbeat gave it away. Sadly, Derek could not sneak up on him, and as soon as Stiles saw him coming, he squealed with laughter, wiggled out of his hideout and dashed away. This time catching him was child’s play. Growling playfully, Derek gained on him effortlessly and wrapped his powerful arms around Stiles body, pulling him against his chest.

“Gotcha!” Finally holding his quarry was thrilling. Stiles tried vainly to slip from his grasp, so Derek tickled his ribs to punish him for the merry chase he had led him on, loving Stiles laughter. Derek kissed his neck, his nape, behind his ear and whispered, “I love you, Stiles…”

That was something he had never said to him before. Stiles turned in his arms, eyes dancing, and smiled at him, looking so, so happy. “I love you too. So much.”

Their smiling lips met, and it was so good to kiss that soft welcoming mouth. When Derek’s hands slid along Stiles’s wet body, for the first time there was only skin under his palms, and Derek moaned in their kiss. Stiles’s hands were under Derek’s shirt, all over his body, and their erections were pressed together through Derek’s thin cotton pants.

“Oh, my god, get naked already!” Stiles rubbed his body on Derek’s, rutting against his hip, “Oh, fuck Derek, fuck… “ He looked around. “I want to… ugh, there’re rocks everywhere, shit! How far is the tent? I need…” Derek laughed as Stiles climbed him like a tree, wrapping his long legs around his hips, kissing him ravenously, and trusting Derek’s strength to hold him up.

“Did Peter suggest you run back to this spot, Stiles? Who helped you plan your run?” Derek asked, carrying his mate around the largest of the trees.

“Yes, Peter. Why?”

Derek untangled Stile’s hands from around his neck and set him down.

“What? No! What are you…”

Derek turned Stiles around so he faced the rope ladder dangling in front of him. “There is a reason he led you here. It is also where he suggested I built this…”

Stiles looked up at the large tree house half hidden amongst the branches of the tallest white fir. Stiles turned to him, a huge smile on his face. “A tree house? You built me a tree house?”

“I had help,” said Derek, “Up you go!” he added, smacking Stiles naked bum to get him to start climbing. 

“Hey!” Stiles giggled and scrambled up. “Oh, my god, this is so cool!” Stiles had made it to the hard fixed ladder. “Wow, how high is this place?”

“Just don’t look down,” said Derek laughing, very much enjoying the view of Stiles’s naked self climbing above him.

Stiles made it to the open trap door and got in, Derek right behind him. He pulled the cord that would roll the rope ladder out of reach and closed the door. He took off his shirt and pants, needing to be naked. Stiles was standing in the middle of the bedroom, spinning around, taking it all in, giving Derek the first look at his fully naked glory.

Tall and slender and toned, broad shoulders narrowing to a lovely tight ass, his skin, still moist from his run and his dip in the river, a pale gold in the soft lighting, his lean six pack bisected by a trail of dark hair leading to a gorgeous cock, gently swinging as he moved around, his hair sticking up every which way, his golden eyes glowing, his moist lips parted in awe at his surroundings. He was perfect, absolutely perfect.

“Derek, this is so awesome!” exclaimed Stiles. “The view from here is breathtaking!”

“Yes,” agreed Derek, his heart racing, his cock swelling and lifting away from his body as he looked at his sexy mate. “Breathtaking.”

Stiles met his eyes and his heart rate ratcheted up as he became aware of Derek’s meaning. The scent of his renewed arousal filled the enclosed space. Stiles looked down at Derek’s cock and licked his lips. “Oh, fuck,” he said. “Come here…”

Derek pounced and they landed in the middle of the bed, Derek’s instincts, so long under tight control, taking over. He wanted inside Stiles now, wanted his mate, wanted to take him, claim him, right the fuck now! Wanted to push his cock deep inside and come, scenting him in the most primal way. Hard and dripping, he pushed Stiles knees apart and up, the sight of the small star-shaped entrance drawing a deep growl of need out of him as he lined himself up and… sat back on his heels, panting, regaining control of himself. He lowered Stiles legs gently, caressing them tenderly from ankle to hips in apology.

He looked at Stiles, who was staring back at him a bit wild eyed, his heart a staccato of nervous beats. Derek lay down on the bed and gently pulled the beloved body of his _human_ mate on top of him. He tilted his head back and away, eyes closed, exposing his throat in absolute trust and surrender.

Stiles caressed his naked throat, kissed it lightly, placed a hand on his cheek and turned Derek’s face towards him, pressing his lips to Derek’s mouth, his tongue gently probing its way inside until they were really kissing, lovingly, heatedly, as they had done for the past four months. Stiles pulled back a little and said softly, “I want you inside me, Derek, I want that too, so much. I wish… I’m sorry you couldn’t just…”

“I’m not,” Derek interrupted truthfully. “True mates who find each other usually sexually join that day, driven to mate to complete the bond. Stiles, after four months, our first mating is so much more, means so much more. My first instinct is to claim you, but what I want most in the world is to make love with you.” Derek rested a hand on Stiles cheek, running his thumb along his soft lower lip, enthralled by his feelings. “Because I have fallen so deeply and utterly in love with you.”

Stiles’s eyes were wide and luminous; his face was suffused with love. “Derek,” he said softly, and Derek heard all that Stiles’s heart was saying with that word. He kissed him, gently at first, then more and more passionately, until it was no longer enough. 

Derek set out to explore the body of the man he loved, discovering the taste of his skin, of his sweat, of his cock, of his entrance, the heady scents of all those secret places, how the tightly closed one became soft and yielding and open, all the while loving the sounds Stiles made, his sighs, his moans, his whimpers, his gasps of surprised pleasure. When Derek finally slid his straining cock deep inside his mate, looking into his golden eyes, and drew a cry of bliss from Stiles, he growled in utter satisfaction.

His own body singing with impossible pleasure, he watched his mate’s eyes fill with wonder, watched his glistening body arch like a bow with the sensations Derek was creating, watched the incandescent expression on his face as he was overwhelmed with ecstasy and sprayed his release between their rocking bodies and Derek lost himself, his cock pulsing with mind blowing delight, deep inside its perfect sanctuary, not knowing anymore where he ended and Stiles began, their beings melding, rejoicing, and bonding forever.

 

The end.

Spanish translation:  
*”Muy bien, mi amigo”: “Very good, my friend.”  
“Soy muy colmilludo”: “I am extremely talented.”  
“ _Colmilludo_ es Mexicano, Scott. Es _talentoso_ en Español”: “Colmilludo” is Mexican Spanish, Scott. It is “Talentoso” in peninsular Spanish.  
“Si, Senora.”: Yes, M’am.

**“Estás en un montón de problemas.”: “You are in a heap of trouble.”  
“Vas a lamenterlo tanto...”: “I am going to make you regret this so much…”  
“Tanto…”: “So much…”

***“Si los dos ya terminaron, quizas podemos comenzar?”: If the two of you are quite finished, perhaps we might begin?


End file.
